UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


2784      5    > 


THEODORE  ROOSEVELT  IN  HUNTING  COSTUME. 


Prairie  Edition 

*    The 
Wilderness  Hunter 

An  Account  of  the  Big  Game  of  the  United 

States  and  its  Chase  with  Horse 

Hound,  and  Rifle 


Author  of  "The  Winning  of  the  West,"  "  American  Ideals, 
"Hunting  Trips  of  a  Ranchman,"  etc. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 

Cbe  •Knickerbocker  press 

1903 


COPYRIGHT,  1893 

BV 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


34  ic:  7 


s\< 


v.  \ 


TO 

E.  K.  R. 


"  They  saw  the  silences 
Move  by  and  beckon ;  saw  the  forms, 
The  very  beards,  of  burly  storms, 
And  heard  them  talk  like  sounding  sea*  .  .  . 
They  saw  the  snowy  mountains  rolled 
And  heaved  along  the  nameless  lands 
Like  mighty  billows  j  saw  the  gold 
Of  awful  sunsets ;  saw  the  blush 
Of  sudden  dawn,  and  felt  the  hush 
Of  heaven  when  the  day  sat  down 
And  hid  his  face  in  dusky  hands." 

Joaquin  Miller, 


"  In  vain  the  speeding  of  shyness ; 

la  vain  the  elk  takes  to  the  inner  passes  of  the  woods  .  .  . 

.  .  .  where  geese  nip  their  food  with  short  jerks, 
Where  sundown  shadows  lengthen  over  the  limitless  prairio, 
Where  herds  of  buffalo  make  a  crawling  spaead  of  the  square 

miles,  far  and  near, 

Where  winter  wolves  bark  amid  wastes  of  snow  and  ice-clad  trees  . .  , 
The  moose,  large  as  an  ox,  cornered  by  hunters,  plunging  with  his 

forefeet,  the  hoofs  as  sharp  as  knives  .  .  . 
The  blazing  fire  at  night,  the  sweet  taste  of  supper,  the  talk,  th« 

bed  of  hemlock  boughs,  and  the  bear-skin." 

W*H  Whitman, 


CONTENTS 


PREFACE 1 1 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  AMERICAN   WILDERNESS;  WILDERNESS  HUNTERS 
AND    WILDERNESS    GAME. 

The  American  wilderness — Forests,  plains,  moun- 
tains— Likeness  and  unlikeness  to  the  old-world 
wilderness— Wilderness  hunters — Boone,  Croc- 
kett, Houston,  Carson — The  trappers — The 
buffalo  hunters — The  stockmen — The  regular 
army — Wilderness  game — Bison,  moose,  elk,  cari- 
bou, deer,  antelope — Other  game — Hunting  in 
the  wilderness 13 

CHAPTER  II. 

HUNTING   FROM    THE   RANCH;  THE  BLACKTAIL  DEER. 

In  the  cattle  country — Life  on  a  ranch — A  round- 
up—Branding a  maverick — The  Bad  Lands — A 
shot  at  a  blacktail — Still-hunting  the  blacktail — 
Its  habits — Killing  a  buck  in  August — A  shot  at 
close  range — Occasional  unwariness  of  black- 
tail 33 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE  WHITETAIL  DEER  ;  AND  THE  BLACKTAIL  OF  THE 
COLUMBIA. 

The  whitetail — Yields  poor  sport — Fire  hunting- 
Hunting  with  hounds — Shooting  at  running 
game — Queer  adventure — Anecdotes  of  plains- 
men— Good  and  bad  shots — A  wagon  trip — A 
shot  from  the  ranch-house  verandah — The  Co 
lumbian  blacktail 51 

CHAPTER  IV, 

ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES;  THE  PRONG-HORN   ANTE- 
LOPE. 

Riding  to  the  round-up — The  open  plains — Sights 
and  sounds— Gophers,  prairie   dogs,  sharp-tail 
3— IB 


8        .  CONTENTS. 

grouse,  antelope  —  The  cow-camp  —  Standing 
night  guard — Dawn — Make  an  antelope  hunt — 
An  easy  stalk — A  difficult  stalk — Three  antelope 
shot — The  plains  skylark — The  meadow  lark— 
The  mocking-bird — Other  singers — Harsher  wil- 
derness sounds — Pack  rats — Plains  ferret,  Its 
ferocity — The  war  eagle — Attacks  antelope- 
Kills  jack-rabbit — One  shot  on  wing  with  rifle. .  70 

CHAPTER  V. 

HUNTING    THE    PRONG-BUCK;  FROST,  FIRE,  AND 

THIRST. 

Hunting  the  prong-buck — Long  shots — Misses- 
Winter  weather — A  hunt  in  December — Riding 
in  the  bitter  cold — The  old  hunter's  tepee — A 
night  in  a  line  camp — An  antelope  herd — Two 
bucks  shot — Riding  back  to  ranch — The  immi- 
grant train — Hunting  in  fall — Fighting  fire — A 
summer  hunt — Sufferings  from  thirst — Swim- 
ming cattle  across  a  swollen  stream — Wagon  trip 
to  the  Black  Hills — The  great  prairies — A  prong- 
buck  shot — Pleasant  camp— Buck  shot  in  morn- 
ing— Continue  our  journey — Shooting  sage  fowl 
and  prairie  fowl  with  rifle 90 

CHAPTER  VI. 

AMONG  THE  HIGH   HILLS;   THE   BIGHORN   OR  MOUN- 
TAIN  SHEEP. 

A  summer  on  the  ranch — Working  among  the 
cattle — Killing  game  for  the  ranch — A  trip  after 
mountain  sheep — The  Bad  Lands  —Solitary 
camp— The  old  horse  Manitou — Still-hunt  at 
dawn — Young  ram  shot — A  hunt  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains — An  old  bighorn  stalked  and  shot- 
Habits  of  the  game 118 

CHAPTER  VII. 

MOUNTAIN  GAME;  THE  WHITE  GOAT. 
A  trip  to  the  Bighole  Basin — Incidents  of  travel 
with  a  wagon — Camp  among  the  mountains — A 
trip  on  foot  after  goats — Spruce  grouse — Lying 
out  at  night — A  climb  over  the  high  peaks — Two 
goats  shot — Weary  tramp  back — A  hunt  in  the 
Kootenai  country — Hard  climbing  among  the 


CONTENTS.  9 

wooded  mountains — Goat  shot  on  brink  of 
chasm — Ptarmigan  for  supper — Goat  hunting 
very  hard  work — Ways  and  habits  of  the  goats 
—Not  much  decrease  in  numbers 129 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS;  THE  CARIBOU. 
A  camp  on  Kootenai  Lake — Travelling  on  foot 
through  the  dense  forests — Excessive  toil — Wa- 
ter shrew  and  water  thrush — Black  bear  killed — 
Mountain  climbing — Woodchucks  and  conies — 
The  Indian  Ammal — Night  sounds — A  long 
walk — A  caribou  killed — A  midwinter  trip  on 
snow-shoes  in  Maine — Footprints  on  the  snow— 
A  helpless  deer — Caribou  at  ease  in  the  deep 
drifts 150 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  WAPITI  OR  ROUND-HORNED  ELK. 
A  hunt  in  the  Bitter  Root  mountains — A  trip  on 
foot — Two  bull  elk  fighting — The  peace-maker— 
All  three  shot — Habits  of  the  wapiti — Their 
bungling — A  grand  chorus — Shooting  a  bull  at 
sunrise — Another  killed  near  the  ranch — Vanish- 
ing of  the  elk — Its  antlers — The  lynx — Porcupine 
—Chickarees  and  chipmunks — Clarke's  crow — 
Lewis'  woodpecker — Whisky-j  ack — Trout — The 
Yellowstone  canyon 176 

CHAPTER  X. 

AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN   PASS. 

In  the  Shoshones — Travelling  with  a  pack-train- 
Scenery — Flowers — A  squaw-man — Bull  elk  shot 
in  rain  while  challenging — Storm — Breaking 
camp  in  rain — Two-Ocean  Pass — Our  camp — A 
young  ten-pointer  shot — The  mountains  in  moon- 
light— Blue  grouse — Snow-shoe  rabbits — Death 
of  a  master  bull — The  Tetons — Following  a  bull 
by  scent — 111  luck — Luck  changes — Death  of 
spike  bull — Three  bulls  killed — Travelling  home 
—Heavy  snowstorm — Bucking  horse — various 
hunts  compared — Number  cartridges  used — Still- 
hunting  the  elk 198 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XL 

THE  MOOSE;  THE  BEAST  OF  THE  WOODLAND. 

The  moose  of  the  Rocky  Mountains — Its  habits- 
Difficult  nature  of  its  haunts — Repeated  failures 
while  hunting  it — Watching  a  marsh  at  dawn— 
A  moose  in  the  reeds — Stalking  and  shooting 
him — Travelling  light  with  a  pack-train — A  bea- 
ver meadow — Shooting  a  big  bull  at  dawn — The 
moose  in  summer ,  in  winter — Young  moose — 
Pugnacity  of  moose — Still-hunting  moose— 
Rather  more  easy  to  kill  than  whitetail  deer — At 
times  a  dangerous  antagonist — The  winter  yards 
— Hunting  on  snow-shoes — A  narrow  escape — 
A  fatal  encounter 226 

CHAPTER  XII. 

HUNTING  LORE. 

Game  which  ought  not  to  be  killed — Killing  black 
bear  with  a  knife — Sports  with  rod  and  shotgun 
—Snow-shoeing  and  mountaineering — American 
writers  on  out-door  life  —  Burroughs  —  Thoreau 
— Audubon,  Coues,  etc. — American  hunting 
books — American  writers  on  life  in  the  wilder- 
ness :  Parkman,  Irving — Cooper  on  pioneer  life 
— American  statesmen  and  soldiers  devoted  to 
the  chase — Lincoln,  Jackson,  Israel  Putnam — 
A  letter  from  Webster  on  trout-fishing — Clay- 
Washington  —  Hunting  Extracts  from  Wash- 
ington's diaries  —  Washington  as  a  fox- 
hunter 255 

APPENDIX 273 


PREFACE. 

FOR  a  number  of  years  much  of  my  life 
was  spent  either  in  the  wilderness  or  on 
the  borders  of  the  settled  country — if,  indeed, 
"  settled  "  is  a  term  that  can  rightly  be  ap- 
plied to  the  vast,  scantily  peopled  regions 
where  cattle-ranching  is  the  only  regular  in- 
dustry. During  this  time  I  hunted  much, 
among  the  mountains  and  on  the  plains,  both 
as  a  pastime  and  to  procure  hides,  meat,  and 
robes  for  use  on  the  ranch ;  and  it  was  my 
good  luck  to  kill  all  the  various  kinds  of  large 
game  that  can  properly  be  considered  to 
belong  to  temperate  North  America. 

In  hunting,  the  rinding  and  killing  of  the 
game  is  after  all  but  a  part  of  the  whole. 
The  free,  self-reliant,  adventurous  life,  with 
its  rugged  and  stalwart  democracy ;  the  wild 
surroundings,  the  grand  beauty  of  the  scenery, 
the  chance  to  study  the  ways  and  habits  of 
the  woodland  creatures — all  these  unite  to 
give  to  the  career  of  the  wilderness  hunter  its 
peculiar  charm.  The  chase  is  among  the  best 
of  all  national  pastimes ;  it  cultivates  that 
vigorous  manliness  for  the  lack  of  which  in  a 
nation,  as  in  an  individual,  the  possession  of 
no  other  qualities  can  possibly  atone. 

No  one,  but  he  who  has  partaken  thereof, 
can  understand  the  keen  delight  of  hunting  in 

XI 


PREFACE. 

lonely  lands.  For  him  is  the  joy  of  the  horse 
well  ridden  and  the  rifle  well  held ;  for  him 
the  long  days  of  toil  and  hardship,  resolutely 
endured,  and  crowned  at  the  end  with  tri- 
umph. In  after  years  there  shall  come  for- 
ever to  his  mind  the  memory  of  endless  prai- 
ries shimmering  in  the  bright  sun ;  of  vast 
snow-clad  wastes  lying  desolate  under  gray 
skies ;  of  the  melancholy  marshes ;  of  the  rush 
of  mighty  rivers ;  of  the  breath  of  the  ever- 
green forest  in  summer ;  of  the  crooning  of 
ice-armored  pines  at  the  touch  of  the  winds  of 
winter ;  of  cataracts  roaring  between  hoary 
mountain  masses;  of  all  the  innumerable 
sights  and  sounds  of  the  wilderness ;  of  its 
immensity  and  mystery ;  and  of  the  silences 
that  brood  in  its  still  depths. 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT. 

SAGAMORE  HILL, 
June,  1893. 


r\      •" 


THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  AMERICAN    WILDERNESS  J   WILDERNESS 
HUNTERS  AND  WILDERNESS  GAME. 

''2L4  n 

MANIFOLD  are  the  shapes  taken  by  the 
American  wilderness.  In  the  east, 
from  the  Atlantic  coast  to  the  Mississippi 
valley,  lies  a  land  of  magnificent  hardwood 
forest.  In  endless  variety  and  beauty,  the 
trees  cover  the  ground,  save  only  where  they 
have  been  cleared  away  by  man,  or  where  to- 
wards the  west  the  expanse  of  the  forest  is 
broken  by  fertile  prairies.  Towards  the  north, 
this  region  of  hardwood  trees  merges  insen- 
sibly into  the  southern  extension  of  the  great 
sub-arctic  forest ;  here  the  silver  stems  of 
birches  gleam  against  the  sombre  background 
of  coniferous  evergreens.  In  the  southeast 
again,  by  the  hot,  oozy  coasts  of  the  South 
Atlantic  and  the  Gulf,  the  forest  becomes 
semi-tropical ;  palms  wave  their  feathery 
fronds,  and  the  tepid  swamps  teem  with 
reptile  life. 

Some    distance    beyond    the   Mississippi, 


I4         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

stretching  from  Texas  to  North  Dakota,  and 
westward  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  lies  the 
plains  country.  This  is  a  region  of  light  rain- 
fall, where  the  ground  is  clad  with  short  grass, 
while  cottonwood  trees  fringe  the  courses  of 
the  winding  plains  streams ;  streams  that  are 
alternately  turbid  torrents  and  mere  dwin- 
dling threads  of  water.  The  great  stretches  of 
natural  pasture  are  broken  by  gray  sage-brush 
plains,,  and  tracts  of  strangely  shaped  and 
colored  Bad  Lands ;  sun-scorched  wastes  in 
summer,  and  in  winter  arctic  in  their  iron  des- 
olation. Beyond  the  plains  rise  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  their  flanks  covered  with  conifer- 
ous woods ;  but  the  trees  are  small,  and  do 
not  ordinarily  grow  very  closely  together. 
Towards  the  north  the  forest  becomes  denser, 
and  the  peaks  higher ;  and  glaciers  creep  down 
towards  the  valleys  from  the  fields  of  ever- 
lasting snow.  The  brooks  are  brawling,  trout- 
filled  torrents ;  the  swift  rivers  foam  over 
rapid  and  cataract,  on  their  way  to  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  great  oceans. 

Southwest  of  the  Rockies  evil  and  terrible 
deserts  stretch  for  leagues  and  leagues,  mere 
waterless  wastes  of  sandy  plain  and  barren 
mountain,  broken  here  and  there  by  narrow 
strips  of  fertile  ground.  Rain  rarely  falls, 
and  there  are  no  clouds  to  dim  the  brazen 
sun.  The  rivers  run  in  deep  canyons,  or  are 
swallowed  by  the  burning  sand ;  the  smaller 
watercourses  are  dry  throughout  the  greater 
part  of  the  year. 

Beyond  this  desert  region  rise  the  sunny 
Sierras  of  California,  with  their  flower-clad 
slopes  and  groves  of  giant  trees ;  and  north 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        15 

of  them,  along  the  coast,  the  rain-shrouded 
mountain  chains  of  Oregon  and  Washington, 
matted  with  the  towering  growth  of  the 
mighty  evergreen  forest. 

The  white  hunters,  who  from  time  to 
time  first  penetrated  the  different  parts  of 
this  wilderness,  found  themselves  in  such 
hunting  grounds  as  those  wherein,  long  ages 
before,  their  Old-World  forefathers  had 
dwelt;  and  the  game  they  chased  was  much 
the  same  as  that  their  lusty  barbarian  an- 
cestors followed,  with  weapons  of  bronze  and 
of  iron,  in  the  dim  years  before  history  dawned. 
As  late  as  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century 
the  turbulent  village  nobles  of  Lithuania  and 
Livonia  hunted  the  bear,  the  bison,  the  elk, 
the  wolf,  and  the  stag,  and  hung  the  spoils  in 
their  smoky  wooden  palaces  ;  and  so,  two 
hundred  years  later,  the  free  hunters  of  Mon- 
tana, in  the  interludes  between  hazardous 
mining  quests  and  bloody  Indian  campaigns, 
hunted  game  almost  or  quite  the  same  in 
kind,  through  the  cold  mountain  forests  sur- 
rounding the  Yellowstone  and  Flathead  lakes, 
and  decked  their  log  cabins  and  ranch  houses 
with  the  hides  and  horns  of  the  slaughtered 
beasts. 

Zoologically  speaking,  the  north  temperate 
zones  of  the  Old  and  New  Worlds  are  very 
similar,  differing  from  one  another  much  less 
than  they  do  from  the  various  regions  south 
of  them,  or  than  these  regions  differ  among 
themselves.  The  untrodden  American  wilder- 
ness resembles  both  in  game  and  physical 
character  the  forests,  the  mountains,  and  the 
steppes  of  the  Old  World  as  it  was  at  the 


1 6  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

beginning  of  our  era.  Great  woods  of  pine 
and  fir,  birch  and  beech,  oak  and  chestnut ; 
streams  where  the  chief  game  fish  are  spotted 
trout  and  silvery  salmon  ;  grouse  of  various 
kinds  as  the  most  common  game  birds  ;  all 
these  the  hunter  finds  as  characteristic  of  the 
New  World  as  of  the  Old.  So  it  is  with  most 
of  the  beasts  of  the  chase,  and  so  also  with 
the  fur-bearing  animals  that  furnish  to  the 
trapper  alike  his  life  work  and  his  means  of 
livelihood.  The  bear,  wolf,  bison,  moose, 
caribou,  wapiti,  deer,  and  bighorn,  the  lynx, 
fox,  wolverine,  sable,  mink,  ermine,  beaver, 
badger,  and  otter  of  both  worlds  are  either 
identical  or  more  or  less  closely  kin  to  one 
another.  Sometimes  of  the  two  forms,  that 
found  in  the  Old  World  is  the  largest.  Per- 
haps more  often  the  reverse  is  true,  the 
American  beast  being  superior  in  size.  This 
is  markedly  the  case  with  the  wapiti,  which  is 
merely  a  giant  brother  of  the  European  stag, 
exactly  as  the  fisher  is  merely  a  very  large 
cousin  of  the  European  sable  or  marten.  The 
extraordinary  prong-buck,  the  only  hollow- 
horned  ruminant  which  sheds  its  horns  an- 
nually, is  a  distant  representative  of  the  Old- 
World  antelopes  of  the  steppes;  the  queer 
white  antelope-goat  has  for  its  nearest  kinsfolk 
certain  Himalayan  species.  Of  the  animals 
commonly  known  to  our  hunters  and  trappers, 
only  a  few,  such  as  the  cougar,  peccary,  rac- 
coon, possum  (and  among  birds  the  wild 
turkey),  find  their  nearest  representatives  and 
type  forms  in  tropical  America. 

Of  course  this  general  resemblance  does  not 
mean  identity.    The  differences  in  plant  life 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        17 

and  animal  life,  no  less  than  in  the  physical 
features  of  the  land,  are  sufficiently  marked 
to  give  the  American  wilderness  a  character 
distinctly  its  own.  Some  of  the  most  charac- 
teristic of  the  woodland  animals,  some  of 
those  which  have  most  vividly  impressed 
themselves  on  the  imagination  of  the  hunters 
and  pioneer  settlers,  are  the  very  ones  which 
have  no  Old-World  representatives.  The 
wild  turkey  is  in  every  way  the  king  of 
American  game  birds.  Among  the  small 
beasts  the  coon  and  the  possum  are  those 
which  have  left  the  deepest  traces  in  the 
humbler  lore  of  the  frontier ;  exactly  as  the 
cougar — usually  under  the  name  of  panther 
or  mountain  lion — is  a  favorite  figure  in  the 
wilder  hunting  tales.  Nowhere  else  is  there 
anything  to  match  the  wealth  of  the  eastern 
hardwood  forests,  in  number,  variety,  and 
beauty  of  trees ;  nowhere  else  is  it  possible 
to  find  conifers  approaching  in  size  the  giant 
redwoods  and  sequoias  of  the  Pacific  slope. 
Nature  here  is  generally  on  a  larger  scale 
than  in  the  Old- World  home  of  our  race.  The 
lakes  are  like  inland  seas,  the  rivers,  like 
arms  of  the  sea.  Among  stupendous  moun- 
tain chains  there  are  valleys  and  canyons  of 
fathomless  depth  and  incredible  beauty  and 
majesty.  There  are  tropical  swamps,  and 
sad,  frozen  marshes ;  deserts  and  Death  Val- 
leys, weird  and  evil,  and  the  strange  wonder- 
land of  the  Wyoming  geyser  region..  The 
waterfalls  are  rivers  rushing  over  precipices  ; 
the  prairies  seem  without  limit,  and  the  forest 
never  ending. 

At  the  time  when  we  first  became  a  nation, 


1 8  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

nine  tenths  of  the  territory  now  included 
within  the  limits  of  the  United  States  was 
wilderness.  It  was  during  the  stirring  and 
troubled  years  immediately  preceding  the  out- 
break of  the  Revolution  that  the  most  adven- 
turous hunters,  the  vanguard  of  the  hardy 
army  of  pioneer  settlers,  first  crossed  the 
Alleghanies,  and  roamed  far  and  wide  through 
the  lonely,  danger-haunted  forests  which  filled 
the  No-man's-land  lying  between  the  Tennessee 
and  the  Ohio.  They  waged  ferocious  warfare 
with  Shawnee  and  Wyandott  and  wrought 
huge  havoc  among  the  herds  of  game  with 
which  the  forest  teemed.  While  the  first  Con- 
tinental Congress  was  still  sitting,  Daniel 
Boone,  the  archetype  of  the  American  hunter, 
was  leading  his  bands  of  tall  backwoods  rifle- 
men to  settle  in  the  beautiful  country  of  Ken- 
tucky, where  the  red  and  the  white  warriors 
strove  with  such  obstinate  rage  that  both  races 
alike  grew  to  know  it  as  "  the  dark  and  bloody 
ground." 

Boone  and  his  fellow-hunters  were  the 
heralds  of  the  oncoming  civilization,  the 
pioneers  in  that  conquest  of  the  wilderness 
which  has  at  last  been  practically  achieved 
in  our  own  day.  Where  they  pitched  their 
camps  and  built  their  log  huts  or  stockaded 
hamlets,  towns  grew  up,  and  men  who  were 
tillers  of  the  soil,  not  mere  wilderness  wan- 
derers, thronged  in  to  take  and  hold  the  land. 
Then,  ill-at-ease  among  the  settlements  for 
which  they  had  themselves  made  ready  the 
way,  and  fretted  even  by  the  slight  restraints 
of  the  rude  and  uncouth  semi-civilization  of 
the  border,  the  restless  hunters  moved  onward 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        19 

into  the  yet  unbroken  wilds  where  the  game 
dwelt  and  the  red  tribes  marched  forever  to 
war  and  hunting.  Their  untamable  souls  ever 
found  something  congenial  and  beyond  meas- 
ure attractive  in  the  lawless  freedom  of  the 
lives  of  the  very  savages  against  whom  they 
warred  so  bitterly. 

Step  by  step,  often  leap  by  leap,  the  fron- 
tier of  settlement  was  pushed  westward ;  and 
ever  from  before  its  advance  fled  the  warrior 
tribes  of  the  red  men  and  the  scarcely  less 
intractable  array  of  white  Indian  fighters 
and  game  hunters.  When  the  Revolution- 
ary war  was  at  its  height,  George  Rogers 
Clarke,  himself  a  mighty  hunter  of  the  old 
backwoods  type,  led  his  handful  of  hunter- 
soldiers  to  the  conquest  of  the  French  towns 
of  the  Illinois.  This  was  but  one  of  the  many 
notable  feats  of  arms  performed  by  the  wild 
soldiery  of  the  backwoods.  Clad  in  their 
fringed  and  tasselled  hunting  shirts  of  buck- 
skin or  homespun,  with  coonskin  caps  and 
deer-hide  leggings  and  moccasins,  with  toma- 
hawk and  scalping  knife  thrust  into  their 
bead-worked  belts,  and  long  rifles  in  hand, 
they  fought  battle  after  battle  of  the  most 
bloody  character,  both  against  the  Indians, 
as  at  the  Great  Kanawha,  at  the  Fallen 
Timbers,  and  at  Tippecanoe,  and  against  more 
civilized  foes,  as  at  King's  Mountain,  New 
Orleans,  and  the  River  Thames. 

Soon  after  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century  Louisiana  fell  into  our  hands,  and  the 
most  daring  hunters  and  explorers  pushed 
through  the  forests  of  the  Mississippi  valley 
to  the  great  plains,  steered  across  these  vast 


20  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

seas  of  grass  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  then 
through  their  rugged  defiles  onwards  to  the  Pa- 
cific Ocean;  In  every  work  of  exploration,  and 
in  all  the  earlier  battles  with  the  original  lords  of 
the  western  and  southwestern  lands,  whether 
Indian  or  Mexican,  the  adventurous  hunters 
played  the  leading  part ;  while  close  behind 
came  the  swarm  of  hard,  dogged,  border- 
farmers, — a  masterful  race,  good  fighters  and 
good  breeders,  as  all  masterful  races  must 
be. 

Very  characteristic  in  its  way  was  the  career 
of  quaint,  honest,  fearless  Davy  Crockett,  the 
Tennessee  rifleman  and  Whig  Congressman, 
perhaps  the  best  shot  in  all  our  country, 
whose  skill  in  the  use  of  his  favorite  weapon 
passed  into  a  proverb,  and  who  ended  his 
days  by  a  hero's  death  in  the  ruins  of  the 
Alamo.  An  even  more  notable  man  was  an- 
other mighty  hunter,  Houston,  who  when  a 
boy  ran  away  to  the  Indians  ;  who  while  still 
a  lad  returned  to  his  own  people  to  serve 
under  Andrew  Jackson  in  the  campaigns 
which  thatgreatest  of  all  the  backwoods  leaders 
waged  against  the  Creeks,  the  Spaniards,  and 
the  British.  He  was  wounded  at  the  storm- 
ing of  one  of  the  strongholds  of  Red  Eagle's 
doomed  warriors,  and  returned  to  his  Tennes- 
see home  to  rise  to  high  civil  honor,  and  be- 
come the  foremost  man  of  his  State.  Then, 
while  Governor  of  Tennessee,  in  a  sudden 
fit  of  moody  anger,  and  of  mad  longing  for 
the  unfettered  life  of  the  wilderness,  he  aban- 
doned his  office,  his  people,  and  his  race,  and 
fled  to  the  Cherokees  beyond  the  Mississippi. 
For  years  he  lived  as  one  of  their  chiefs ; 


THE  AMERICAN"  WILDERNESS.        21 

until  one  day,  as  he  lay  in  ignoble  ease  and 
sloth,  a  rider  from  the  south,  from  the  roll- 
ing plains  of  the  San  Antonio  and  Brazos, 
brought  word  that  the  Texans  were  up,  and 
in  doubtful  struggle  striving  to  wrest  their  free- 
dom from  the  lancers  and  carbineers  of  Santa 
Anna.  Then  his  dark  soul  flamed  again 
into  burning  life ;  riding  by  night  and  day  he 
joined  the  risen  Texans,  was  hailed  by  them 
as  a  heaven-sent  leader,  and  at  the  San  Ja- 
cinto  led  them  on  to  the  overthrow  of  the  Mexi- 
can host.  Thus  the  stark  hunter,  who  had 
been  alternately  Indian  fighter  and  Indian 
chief,  became  the  President  of  the  new 
Republic,  and,  after  its  admission  into  the 
United  States,  a  Senator  at  Washington  ;  and, 
to  his  high  honor,  he  remained  to  the  end 
of  his  days  staunchly  loyal  to  the  flag  of  the 
Union. 

By  the  time  that  Crockett  fell,  and  Houston 
became  the  darling  leader  of  the  Texans,  the 
typical  hunter  and  Indian  fighter  had  ceased 
to  be  a  backwoodsman ;  he  had  become  a 
plains-man,  or  mountain-man  ;  for  the  frontier, 
east  of  which  he  never  willingly  went,  had 
been  pushed  beyond  the  Mississippi.  Rest- 
less, reckless,  and  hardy,  he  spent  years  of 
his  life  in  lonely  wanderings  through  the 
Rockies  as  a  trapper ;  he  guarded  the  slowly 
moving  caravans,  which  for  purposes  of  trade 
journeyed  over  the  dangerous  Santa  Fe  trail ; 
he  guided  the  large  parties  of  frontier  settlers 
who,  driving  before  them  their  cattle,  with  all 
their  household  goods  in  their  white-topped 
wagons,  spent  perilous  months  and  seasons 
on  their  weary  way  to  Oregon  or  California. 


22  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

Joining  in  bands,  the  stalwart,  skin-clad  rifle- 
men waged  ferocious  war  on  the  Indians, 
scarcely  more  savage  than  themselves,  or 
made  long  raids  for  plunder  and  horses  against 
the  outlying  Mexican  settlements.  The  best, 
the  bravest,  the  most  modest  of  them  all  was 
the  renowned  Kit  Carson.  He  was  not  only 
a  mighty  hunter,  a  daring  fighter,  a  finder  of 
trails,  and  maker  of  roads  through  the  un- 
known, untrodden  wilderness,  but  also  a  real 
leader  of  men.  Again  and  again  he  crossed 
and  re-crossed  the  continent,  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi to  the  Pacific  ;  he  guided  many  of  the 
earliest  military  and  exploring  expeditions  of 
the  United  States  Government ;  he  himself 
led  the  troops  in  victorious  campaigns  against 
Apache  and  Navahoe  ;  and  in  the  Civil  War 
he  was  made  a  colonel  of  the  Federal  army. 

After  him  came  many  other  hunters.  Most 
were  pure-blooded  Americans,  but  many  were 
Creole  Frenchmen,  Mexicans,  or  even  mem- 
bers of  the  so-called  civilized  Indian  tribes, 
notably  the  Delawares.  Wide  were  their 
wanderings,  many  their  strange  adventures  in 
the  chase,  bitter  their  unending  warfare  with 
the  red  lords  of  the  land.  Hither  and  thither 
they  roamed,  from  the  desolate,  burning 
deserts  of  the  Colorado  to  the  grassy  plains 
of  the  Upper  Missouri  ;  from  the  rolling  Texas 
prairies,  bright  beneath  their  sunny  skies,  to 
the  high  snow  peaks  of  the  northern  Rockies, 
or  the  giant  pine  forests,  and  soft  rainy 
weather,  of  the  coasts  of  Puget  Sound.  Their 
main  business  was  trapping,  furs  being  the 
only  articles  yielded  by  the  wilderness,  as 
they  knew  it,  which  were  both  valuable  and 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        23 

portable.  These  early  hunters  were  all  trap- 
pers likewise,  and,  indeed,  used  their  rifles 
only  to  procure  meat  or  repel  attacks. 
The  chief  of  the  fur-bearing  animals  they 
followed  was  the  beaver,  which  abounded  in 
the  streams  of  the  plains  and  mountains; 
in  the  far  north  they  also  trapped  otter,  mink, 
sable,  and  fisher.  They  married  squaws  from 
among  the  Indian  tribes,  with  which  they 
happened  for  the  moment  to  be  at  peace  ; 
they  acted  as  scouts  for  the  United  States 
troops  in  their  campaigns  against  the  tribes 
with  which  they  happened  to  be  at  war. 

Soon  after  the  Civil  War  the  life  of  these 
hunters,  taken  as  a  class,  entered  on  its  final 
stage.  The  Pacific  coast  was  already  fairly 
well  settled,  and  there  were,  a  few  mining 
camps  in  the  Rockies ;  but  most  of  this 
Rocky  Mountains  region,  and  the  entire 
stretch  of  plains  country  proper,  the  vast  belt 
of  level  or  rolling  grassland  lying  between  the 
Rio  Grande  and  the  Saskatchewan,  still  re- 
mained primeval  wilderness,  inhabited  only 
by  roving  hunters  and  formidable  tribes  of 
Indian  nomads,  and  by  the  huge  herds  of 
game  on  which  they  preyed.  Beaver  swarmed 
in  the  streams  and  yielded  a  rich  harvest  to 
the  trapper;  but  trapping  was  no  longer  the 
mainstay  of  the  adventurous  plainsmen. 
Foremost  among  the  beasts  of  the  chase,  on 
account  of  its  numbers,  its  size,  and  its  eco- 
nomic importance,  was  the  bison  or  American 
buffalo  ;  its  innumerable  multitudes  darkened 
the  limitless  prairies.  As  the  transcontinental 
railroads  were  pushed  towards  completion, 
and  the  tide  of  settlement  rolled  onwards 


24  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

with  ever  increasing  rapidity,  buffalo  robes 
became  of  great  value.  The  hunters  forth- 
with turned  their  attention  mainly  to  the 
chase  of  the  great  clumsy  beasts,  slaughtering 
them  by  hundreds  of  thousands  for  their 
hides ;  sometimes  killing  them  on  horseback, 
but  more  often  on  foot,  by  still-hunting,  with 
the  heavy  long-range  Sharp's  rifle.  Through- 
out the  fifteen  years  during  which  this  slaugh- 
ter lasted,  a  succession  of  desperate  wars  was 
waged  with  the  banded  tribes  of  the  Horse 
Indians.  All  the  time,  in  unending  succes- 
sion, long  trains  of  big  white-topped  wagons 
crept  slowly  westward  across  the  prairies, 
marking  the  steady  oncoming  of  the  frontier 
settlers. 

By  the  close  of  1883  the  last  buffalo  herd 
was  destroyed.  The  beaver  were  trapped  out 
of  all  the  streams,  or  their  numbers  so  thinned 
that  it  no  longer  paid  to  follow  them.  The 
last  formidable  Indian  war  had  been  brought 
to  a  successful  close.  The  flood  of  the  in- 
coming whites  had  risen  over  the  land ;  tongues 
of  settlement  reached  from  the  Mississippi  to 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  from  the  Rocky 
Mountains  to  the  Pacific.  The  frontier  had 
come  to  an  end ;  it  had  vanished.  With  it 
vanished  also  the  old  race  of  wilderness  hun- 
ters, the  men  who  spent  all  their  days  in  the 
lonely  wilds,  and  who  killed  game  as  their 
sole  means  of  livelihood.  Great  stretches  of 
wilderness  still  remain  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  here  and  there  in  the  plains  country, 
exactly  as  much  smaller  tracts  of  wild  land 
are  to  be  found  in  the  Alleghanies  and  northern 
New  York  and  New  England ;  and  on  these 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        25 

tracts  occasional  hunters  and  trappers  still 
linger ;  but  as  a  distinctive  class,  with  a  peculiar 
and  important  position  in  American  life,  they 
no  longer  exist. 

There  were  other  men  beside  the  professional 
hunters,  who  lived  on  the  borders  of  the 
wilderness,  and  followed  hunting,  not  only  as 
a  pastime,  but  also  as  yielding  an  important 
portion  of  their  subsistence.  The  frontier 
farmers  were  all  hunters.  In  the  eastern  back- 
woods, and  in  certain  places  in  the  west,  as  in 
Oregon,  these  adventurous  tillers  of  the  soil 
were  the  pioneers  among  the  actual  settlers; 
in  the  Rockies  their  places  were  taken  by  the 
miners,  and  on  the  great  plains  by  the  ranch- 
men and  cowboys,  the  men  who  lived  in  the 
saddle,  guarding  their  branded  herds  of  horses 
and  horned  stock.  Almost  all  of  the  miners 
and  cowboys  were  obliged  on  occasions  to 
turn  hunters. 

Moreover,  the  regular  army  which  played  so 
important  a  part  in  all  the  later  stages  of  the 
winning  of  the  west  produced  its  full  share  of 
mighty  hunters.  The  later  Indian  wars  were 
fought  principally  by  the  regulars.  The  West 
Point  officer  and  his  little  company  of  trained 
soldiers  appeared  abreast  of  the  first  hardy 
cattlemen  and  miners.  The  ordinary  settlers 
rarely  made  their  appearance  until  in  campaign 
after  campaign,  always  inconceivably  wearing 
and  harassing,  and  often  very  bloody  in 
character,  the  scarred  and  tattered  troops  had 
broken  and  overthrown  the  most  formidable 
among  the  Indian  tribes.  Faithful,  uncom- 
plaining, unflinching,  the  soldiers  wearing  the 
national  uniform  lived  for  many  weary  years 


26  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

at  their  lonely  little  posts,  facing  unending 
toil  and  danger  with  quiet  endurance,  sur- 
rounded by  the  desolation  of  vast  solitudes, 
and  menaced  by  the  most  merciless  of  foes. 
Hunting  was  followed  not  only  as  a  sport,  but 
also  as  the  only  means  of  keeping  the  posts 
and  the  expeditionary  trains  in  meat.  Many 
of  the  officers  became  equally  proficient  as 
marksmen  and  hunters.  The  three  most 
famous  Indian  fighters  since  the  Civil  War, 
Generals  Custer,  Miles,  and  Crook,  were  all 
keen  and  successful  followers  of  the  chase. 

Of  American  big  game  the  bison,  almost 
always  known  as  the  buffalo,  was  the  largest 
and  most  important  to  man.  When  the  first 
white  settlers  landed  in  Virginia  the  bison 
ranged  east  of  the  Alleghanies  almost  to  the 
sea-coast,  westward  to  the  dry  deserts  lying 
beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains,  northward  to 
the  Great  Slave  Lake  and  southward  to 
Chihuahua.  It  was  a  beast  of  the  forests  and 
mountains,  in  the  Alleghanies  no  less  than 
in  the  Rockies  ;  but  its  true  home  was  on  the 
prairies,  and  the  high  plains.  Across  these  it 
roamed,  hither  and  thither,  in  herds  of  enor- 
mous, of  incredible  magnitude ;  herds  so  large 
that  they  covered  the  waving  grass  land  for 
hundreds  of  square  leagues,  and  when  on  the 
march  occupied  days  and  days  in  passing  a 
given  point.  But  the  seething  myriads  of 
shaggy-maned  wild  cattle  vanished  with  re- 
markable and  melancholy  rapidity  before  the 
inroads  of  the  white  hunters,  and  the  steady 
march  of  the  oncoming  settlers.  Now  they 
are  on  the  point  of  extinction.  Two  or  three 
hundred  are  left  in  that  great  national  game 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS,        27 

preserve,  the  Yellowstone  Park  ;  and  it  is  said 
that  others  still  remain  in  the  wintry  desolation 
of  Athabasca.  Elsewhere  only  a  few  in- 
dividuals exist — probably  considerably  less 
than  half  a  hundred  all  told — scattered  in 
small  parties  in  the  wildest  and  most  remote 
and  inaccessible  portions  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. A  bison  bull  is  the  largest  American 
animal.  His  huge  bulk,  his  short,  curved 
black  horns,  the  shaggy  mane  clothing  his 
great  neck  and  shoulders,  give  him  a  look  of 
ferocity  which  his  conduct  belies.  Yet  he  is 
truly  a  grand  and  noble  beast,  and  his  loss 
from  our  prairies  and  forest  is  as  keenly  re- 
gretted by  the  lover  of  nature  and  of  wild  life 
as  by  the  hunter. 

Next  to  the  bison  in  size,  and  much  superior 
in  height  to  it  and  to  all  other  American  game 
— for  it  is  taller  than  the  tallest  horse — comes 
the  moose,  or  broad-horned  elk.  It  is  a 
strange,  uncouth-looking  beast,  with  very  long 
legs,  short  thick  neck,  a  big,  ungainly  head, 
a  swollen  nose,  and  huge  shovel  horns.  Its 
home  is  in  the  cold,  wet  pine  and  spruce 
forests,  which  stretch  from  the  sub-arctic 
region  of  Canada  southward  in  certain  places 
across  our  frontier.  Two  centuries  ago  it  was 
found  as  far  south  as  Massachusetts.  It  has 
now  been  exterminated  from  its  former  haunts 
in  northern  New  York  and  Vermont,  and  is 
on  the  point  of  vanishing  from  northern 
Michigan.  It  is  still  found  in  northern  Maine 
and  northeastern  Minnesota  and  in  portions 
of  northern  Idaho  and  Washington ;  while 
along  the  Rockies  it  extends  its  range  south- 
ward through  western  Montana  to  northwest- 


28          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

ern  Wyoming,  south  of  the  Tetons.  In  1884 
I  saw  the  fresh  hide  of  one  that  was  killed  in 
the  Bighorn  Mountains. 

The  wapiti,  or  round-horned  elk,  like  the 
bison,  and  unlike  the  moose,  had  its  centre  of 
abundance  in  the  United  States,  though  ex- 
tending northward  into  Canada.  Originally 
its  range  reached  from  ocean  to  ocean  and  it 
went  in  herds  of  thousands  of  individuals; 
but  it  has  suffered  more  from  the  persecution 
of  hunters  than  any  other  game  except  the 
bison.  By  the  beginning  of  this  century  it 
had  been  exterminated  in  most  localities  east 
of  the  Mississippi ;  but  a  few  lingered  on  for 
many  years  in  the  Alleghanies.  Col.  Cecil 
Clay  informs  me  that  an  Indian  whom  he 
knew  killed  one  in  Pennsylvania  in  1869.  A 
very  few  still  exist  here  and  there  in  northern 
Michigan  and  Minnesota,  and  in  one  or  two 
spots  on  the  western  boundary  of  Nebraska 
and  the  Dakotas ;  but  it  is  now  properly  a 
beast  of  the  wooded  western  mountains.  It 
is  still  plentiful  in  western  Colorado,  Wyoming, 
and  Montana,  and  in  parts  of  Idaho,  Wash- 
ington, and  Oregon.  Though  not  as  large 
as  the  moose  it  is  the  most  beautiful  and 
stately  of  all  animals  of  the  deer  kind,  and 
its  antlers  are  marvels  of  symmetrical  grand- 
eur. 

The  woodland  caribou  is  inferior  to  the 
wapiti  both  in  size  and  symmetry.  The  tips 
of  the  many  branches  of  its  long  irregular 
antlers  are  slightly  palmated.  Its  range  is 
the  same  as  that  of  the  moose,  save  that  it 
does  not  go  so  far  southward.  Its  hoofs  are 
long  and  round ;  even  larger  than  the  long, 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        29 

oval  hoofs  of  the  moose,  and  much  larger 
than  those  of  the  wapiti.  The  tracks  of  all 
three  can  be  told  apart  at  a  glance,  and  can- 
not be  mistaken  for  the  footprints  of  other 
game.  Wapiti  tracks,  however,  look  much 
like  those  of  yearling  and  two-year-old  cattle, 
unless  the  ground  is  steep  or  muddy,  in 
which  case  the  marks  of  the  false  hoofs  ap- 
pear, the  joints  of  wapiti  being  more  flexible 
than  those  of  domestic  stock. 

The  whitetail  deer  is  now,  as  it  always  has 
been,  the  best  known  and  most  abundant  of 
American  big  game,  and  though  its  numbers 
have  been  greatly  thinned  it  is  still  found  in 
almost  every  State  of  the  Union.  The  com- 
mon blacktail  or  mule  deer,  which  has  like- 
wise been  sadly  thinned  in  numbers,  though 
once  extraordinarily  abundant,  extends  from 
the  great  plains  to  the  Pacific ;  but  is  sup- 
planted on  the  Puget  Sound  coast  by  the 
Columbian  blacktail.  The  delicate,  heart- 
shaped  footprints  of  all  three  are  nearly  indis- 
tinguishable ;  when  the  animal  is  running  the 
hoof  points  are  of  course  separated.  The 
track  of  the  antelope  is  more  oval,  growing 
squarer  with  age.  Mountain  sheep  leave 
footmarks  of  a  squarer  shape,  the  points  of 
the  hoof  making  little  indentations  in  the 
soil,  well  apart,  even  when  the  animal  is  only 
walking ;  and  a  yearling's  track  is  noi  inlike 
that  made  by  a  big  prong-buck  when  striding 
rapidly  with  the  toes  well  apart.  White-goat 
tracks  are  also  square,  and  as  large  as  those 
of  the  sheep  ;  but  there  is  less  indentation  of 
the  hoof  points,  which  come  nearer  together. 

The   antelope,   or  prong-buck,   was    once 


30  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

found  in  abundance  from  the  eastern  edge  of 
the  great  plains  to  the  Pacific,  but  it  has 
everywhere  diminished  in  numbers,  and  has 
been  exterminated  along  the  eastern  and 
western  borders  of  its  former  range.  The 
bighorn,  or  mountain  sheep,  is  found  in 
the  Rocky  Mountains  from  northern  Mexico 
to  Alaska ;  and  in  the  United  States  from  the 
Coast  and  Cascade  ranges  to  the  Bad  Lands 
of  the  western  edges  of  the  Dakotas,  wherever 
there  are  mountain  chains  or  tracts  of  rugged 
hills.  It  was  never  very  abundant,  and, 
though  it  has  become  less  so,  it  has  held  its 
own  better  than  most  game.  The  white  goat, 
however,  alone  among  our  game  animals,  has 
positively  increased  in  numbers  since  the 
advent  of  settlers ;  because  white  hunters 
rarely  follow  it,  and  the  Indians  who  once 
sought  its  skin  for  robes  now  use  blankets 
instead.  Its  true  home  is  in  Alaska  and 
Canada,  but  it  crosses  our  borders  along  the 
lines  of  the  Rockies  and  Cascades,  and  a  few 
small  isolated  colonies  are  found  here  and 
there  southward  to  California  and  New 
Mexico. 

The  cougar  and  wolf,  once  common  through- 
out the  United  States,  have  now  completely 
disappeared  from  all  save  the  wildest  regions. 
The  black  bear  holds  its  own  better ;  it  was 
never  found  on  the  great  plains.  The  huge 
grisly  ranges  from  the  great  plains  to  the 
Pacific.  The  little  peccary  or  Mexican  wild 
hog  merely  crosses  our  southern  border. 

The  finest  hunting  ground  in  America  was, 
and  indeed  is,  the  mountainous  region  of 
western  Montana  and  northwestern  Wyoming. 


THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS.        31 

In  this  high,  cold  land,  of  lofty  mountains, 
deep  forests,  and  open  prairies,  with  'its 
beautiful  lakes  and  rapid  rivers,  all  the  species 
of  big  game  mentioned  above,  except  the 
peccary  and  Columbian  blacktail,  are  to  be 
found.  Until  1880  they  were  very  abundant, 
and  they  are  still,  with  the  exception  of  the 
bison,  fairly  plentiful.  On  most  of  the  long 
hunting  expeditions  which  I  made  away  from 
my  ranch,  I  went  into  this  region. 

The  bulk  of  my  hunting  has  been  done  in 
the  cattle  country,  near  my  ranch  on  the  Little 
Missouri,  and  in  the  adjoining  lands  round 
the  lower  Powder  and  Yellowstone.  Until 
1 88 1  the  valley  of  the  Little  Missouri  was 
fairly  thronged  with  game,  and  was  absolute- 
ly unchanged  in  any  respect  from  its  original 
condition  of  primeval  wildness.  With  the 
incoming  of  the  stockmen  all  this  changed, 
and  the  game  was  wofully  slaughtered ;  but 
plenty  of  deer  and  antelope,  a  few  sheep  and 
bear,  and  an  occasional  elk  are  still  left. 

Since  the  professional  hunters  have  van- 
ished with  the  vast  herds  of  game  on  which 
they  preyed,  the  life  of  the  ranchman  is  that 
which  yields  most  chance  of  hunting.  Life 
on  a  cattle  ranch,  on  the  great  plains  or  among 
the  foothills  of  the  high  mountains,  has  a 
peculiar  attraction  for  those  hardy,  adventur- 
ous spirits  who  take  most  kindly  to  a  srigor- 
ous  out-of-door  existence,  and  who  are  there- 
fore most  apt  to  care  passionately  for  the 
chase  of  big  game.  The  free  ranchman  lives 
in  a  wild,  lonely  country,  and  exactly  as  he 
breaks  and  tames  his  own  horses,  and  guards 
and  tends  his  own  branded  herds,  so  he  takes 

3-2      j 


32  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

the  keenest  enjoyment  in  the  chase,  which  is 
to  him  not  merely  the  pleasantest  of  sports, 
but  also  a  means  of  adding  materially  to  his 
comforts,  and  often  his  only  method  of  pro- 
viding himself  with  fresh  meat. 

Hunting  in  the  wilderness  is  of  all  pastimes 
the  most  attractive,  and  it  is  doubly  so  when 
not  carried  on  merely  as  a  pastime.  Shooting 
over  a  private  game  preserve  is  of  course  in 
no  way  to  be  compared  to  it.  The  wilderness 
hunter  must  not  only  show  skill  in  the  use  of 
the  rifle  and  address  in  finding  and  approach- 
ing game,  but  he  must  also  show  the  qualities 
of  hardihood,  self-reliance,  and  resolution 
needed  for  effectively  grappling  with  his  wild 
surrounding's.  The  fact  that  the  hunter  needs 
the  game,  both  for  its  meat  and  for  its  hide, 
undoubtedly  adds  a  zest  to  the  pursuit. 
Among  the  hunts  which  I  have  most  enjoyed 
were  those  made  when  I  was  engaged  in  get- 
ting in  the  winter's  stock  of  meat  for  the  ranch, 
or  was  keeping  some  party  of  cowboys  sup- 
plied with  game  from  day  to  day. 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.         33 


CHAPTER  II. 

HUNTING   FROM   THE   RANCH  ;    THE   BLACKTAIL 
DEER. 

NO  life  can  be  pleasanter  than  life  during 
the  months  of  fall  on  a  ranch  in  the 
northern  cattle  country.  The  weather  is 
cool ;  in  the  evenings  and  on  the  rare  rainy 
days  we  are  glad  to  sit  by  the  great  fireplace, 
with  its  roaring  cottonwood  logs.  But  on  most 
days  not  a  cloud  dims  the  serene  splendor  of 
the  sky ;  and  the  fresh  pure  air  is  clear  with 
the  wonderful  clearness  of  the  high  plains. 
We  are  in  the  saddle  from  morning  to  night. 

The  long,  low,  roomy  ranch  house,  of  clean 
hewed  logs,  is  as  comfortable  as  it  is  bare  and 
plain.  We  fare  simply  but  well ;  for  the  wife 
of  my  foreman  makes  excellent  bread  and 
cake,  and  there  are  plenty  of  potatoes,  grown 
in  the  forlorn  little  garden-patch  on  the  bot- 
tom. We  also  have  jellies  and  jams,  made 
from  wild  plums  and  buffalo  berries  ;  and  all 
the  milk  we  can  drink.  For  meat  we  depend 
on  our  rifles  ;  and,  with  an  occasional  inter- 
lude of  ducks  or  prairie  chickens,  the  mainstay 
of  each  meal  is  venison,  roasted,  broiled,  or 
fried. 

Sometimes  we  shoot  the  deer  when  we  hap- 
pen on  them  while  about  our  ordinary  business, 
— indeed  throughout  the  time  that  I  have  lived 


34  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

on  the  ranch,  very  many  of  the  deer  and  an- 
telope I  killed  were  thus  obtained.  Of  course 
while  doing  the  actual  round-up  work  it  is 
impossible  to  attend  to  anything  else ;  but 
we  generally  carry  rifles  while  riding  after  the 
saddle  band  in  the  early  morning,  while  visit- 
ing the  line  camps,  or  while  in  the  saddle 
among  the  cattle  on  the  range  ;  and  get  many 
a  shot  in  this  fashion. 

In  the  fall  of  1890  some  friends  came  to  my 
ranch  ;  and  one  day  we  took  them  to  see  a 
round-up.  The  OX,  a  Texan  steer-outfit,  had 
sent  a  couple  of  wagons  to  work  down  the 
river,  after  beef  cattle,  and  one  of  my  men 
had  gone  along  to  gather  any  of  my  own  scat- 
tered steers  that  were  ready  for  shipping,  and 
to  brand  the  late  calves.  There  were  perhaps 
a  dozen  riders  with  the  wagons  ;  and  they 
were  camped  for  the  day  on  a  big  bottom 
where  Blacktail  and  Whitetail  creeks  open 
into  the  river,  several  miles  below  my  ranch. 

At  dawn  one  of  the  men  rode  off  to  bring 
in  the  saddle  band.  The  rest  of  us  were  up 
by  sunrise  ;  and  as  we  stood  on  the  verandah 
under  the  shimmering  cottonwood  trees,  rev- 
elling in  the  blue  of  the  cloudless  sky,  and 
drinking  in  the  cool  air  before  going  to  break- 
fast, we  saw  the  motley-colored  string  of 
ponies  file  down  from  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
river,  and  splash  across  the  broad,  shallow 
ford  in  front  of  the  ranch  house.  Cantering 
and  trotting  the  band  swept  towards  the  high, 
round  horse-corral,  in  the  open  glade  to  the 
rear  of  the  house.  Guided  by  the  jutting 
wing  which  stuck  out  at  right  angles,  they 
entered  the  open  gate,  which  was  promptly 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.         35 

closed  by  the  cowboy  who  had  driven  them 
in. 

After  breakfast  we  strolled  over  to  the  cor- 
ral, with  our  lariats,  and,  standing  by  the 
snubbing-post  in  the  middle,  roped  the  horses 
we  wished  for  the  party — some  that  were 
gentle,  and  others  that  were  not.  Then  every 
man  saddled  his  horse ;  and  at  the  moment  of 
mounting  for  the  start  there  was,  as  always,  a 
thrill  of  mild  excitement,  each  rider  hoping 
that  his  own  horse  would  not  buck,  and  that 
his  neighbor's  would.  I  had  no  young  horses 
on  the  ranch  at  the  time  ;  but  a  number  of  the 
older  ones  still  possessed  some  of  the  least 
amiable  traits  of  their  youth. 

Once  in  the  saddle  we  rode  off  down  river, 
along  the  bottoms,  crossing  the  stream  again 
and  again.  We  went  in  Indian  file,  as  is  nec- 
essary among  the  trees  and  in  broken  ground, 
following  the  cattle-trails — which  themselves 
had  replaced  or  broadened  the  game  paths 
that  alone  crossed  the  plateaus  and  bottoms 
when  my  ranch  house  was  first  built.  Now 
we  crossed  open  reaches  of  coarse  grass, 
thinly  sprinkled  with  large,  brittle  cotton-wood 
trees,  their  branches  torn  and  splintered  ;  now 
we  wound  our  way  through  a  dense  jungle 
where  the  gray,  thorny  buffalo  bushes,  span- 
gled with  brilliant  red  berry  clusters,  choked 
the  spaces  between  the  thick-growing  box- 
alders  ;  and  again  the  sure-footed  ponies 
scrambled  down  one  cut  bank  and  up  another, 
through  seemingly  impossible  rifts,  or  with 
gingerly  footsteps  trod  a  path  which  cut  the 
side  of  a  butte  or  overhung  a  bluff.  Some- 
times we  racked,  or  shacked  along  at  the  fox 


36          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

trot  which  is  the  cow-pony's  ordinary  gait ; 
and  sometimes  we  loped  or  galloped  and  ran. 

At  last  we  came  to  the  ford  beyond  which 
the  riders  of  the  round-up  had  made  their 
camp.  In  the  bygone  days  of  the  elk  and 
buffalo,  when  our  branded  cattle  were  first 
driven  thus  far  north,  this  ford  had  been  dan- 
gerous from  quicksand  ;  but  the  cattle,  ever 
crossing  and  re-crossing,  had  trodden  down 
and  settled  the  sand,  and  had  found  out  the 
firm  places ;  so  that  it  was  now  easy  to  get 
over. 

Close  beyond  the  trees  on  the  farther  bank 
stood  the  two  round-up  wagons  ;  near  by  was 
the  cook's  fire,  in  a  trench,  so  that  it  might 
not  spread  ;  the  bedding  of  the  riders  and 
horse-wranglers  lay  scattered  about,  each  roll 
of  blankets  wrapped  and  corded  in  a  stout 
canvas  sheet.  The  cook  was  busy  about  the 
fire  ;  the  night-wrangler  was  snatching  an  hour 
or  two's  sleep  under  one  of  the  wagons. 
Half  a  mile  away,  on  the  plain  of  sage  brush 
and  long  grass,  the  day-wrangler  was  guarding 
the  grazing  or  resting  horse  herd,  of  over  a 
hundred  head.  Still  farther  distant,  at  the 
mouth  of  a  ravine,  was  the  day-herd  of  cattle, 
two  or  three  cowboys  watching  it  as  they  lolled 
drowsily  in  their  saddles.  The  other  riders 
were  off  on  circles  to  bring  in  cattle  to  the 
round-up;  they  were  expected  every  moment. 

With  the  ready  hospitality  always  shown  in 
a  cow-camp  we  were  pressed  to  alight  and 
take  dinner,  or  at  least  a  lunch ;  and  accord- 
ingly we  jumped  off  our  horses  and  sat  down. 
Our  tin  plates  were  soon  heaped  with  fresh 
beef,  bread,  tomatoes,  rice,  and  potatoes,  all 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.          37 

very  good ;  for  the  tall,  bearded,  scrawny 
cook  knew  his  work,  and  the  OX  outfit  always 
fed  its  men  well, — and  saw  that  they  worked 
well  too.  • 

Before  noon  the  circle  riders  began  to  ap- 
pear on  the  plain,  coming  out  of  the  ravines, 
and  scrambling  down  the  steep  hills,  singly  or 
in  twos  and  threes.  They  herded  before  them 
bunches  of  cattle,  of  varying  size  ;  these  were 
driven  together  and  left  in  charge  of  a  couple 
of  cow-punchers.  The  other  men  rode  to  the 
wagon  to  get  a  hasty  dinner — lithe,  sinewy 
fellows,  with  weather-roughened  faces  and 
fearless  eyes ;  their  broad  felt  hats  flapped  as 
they  galloped,  and  their  spurs  and  bridle 
chains  jingled.  They  rode  well,  with  long 
stirrups,  sitting  straight  in  the  deep  stock  sad- 
dles, and  their  wiry  ponies  showed  no  signs  of 
fatigue  from  the  long  morning's  ride. 

The  horse-wrangler  soon  drove  the  saddle 
band  to  the  wagons,  where  it  was  caught  in  a 
quickly  improvised  rope-corral.  The  men 
roped  fresh  horses,  fitted  for  the  cutting-work 
round  the  herd,  with  its  attendant  furious  gal- 
loping and  flash-like  turning  and  twisting.  In 
a  few  minutes  all  were  in  the  saddle  again  and 
riding  towards  the  cattle. 

Then  began  that  scene  of  excitement  and 
turmoil,  and  seeming  confusion,  but  real 
method  and  orderliness,  so  familiar  to  all  who 
have  engaged  in  stock-growing  on  the  great 
plains.  The  riders  gathered  in  a  wide  ring 
round  the  herd  of  uneasy  cattle,  and  a  couple 
of  men  rode  into  their  midst  to  cut  out  the 
beef  steers  and  the  cows  that  were  followed 
by  unbranded  calves.  As  soon  as  the  ani- 


38  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

mal  was  picked  out  the  cowboy  began  to  drive 
it  slowly  towards  the  outside  of  the  herd,  and 
when  it  was  near  the  edge  he  suddenly  raced 
it  into  the  open.  The  beast  would  then  start 
at  full  speed  and  try  to  double  back  among 
its  fellows  ;  while  the  trained  cow-pony  fol- 
lowed like  a  shadow,  heading  it  off  at  every 
turn.  The  riders  round  that  part  of  the  herd 
opened  out  and  the  chosen  animal  was  speed- 
ily hurried  off  to  some  spot  a  few  hundred 
yards  distant,  where  it  was  left  under  charge 
of  another  cowboy.  The  latter  at  first  had  his 
hands  full  in  preventing  his  charge  from  re- 
joining the  herd;  for  cattle  dread  nothing  so 
much  as  being  separated  from  their  comrades. 
However,  as  soon  as  two  or  three  others  were 
driven  out,  enough  to  form  a  little  bunch,  it 
became  a  much  easier  matter  to  hold  the 
"  cut  "  as  it  is  called.  The  cows  and  calves 
were  put  in  one  place,  the  beeves  in  another  ; 
the  latter  were  afterwards  run  into  the  day- 
herd. 

Meanwhile  from  time  to  time  some  clean- 
limbed young  steer  or  heifer,  able  to  run  like 
an  antelope  and  double  like  a  jack-rabbit, 
tried  to  break  out  of  the  herd  that  was  being 
worked,  when  the  nearest  cowboy  hurried  in 
pursuit  at  top  speed  and  brought  it  back,  after 
a  headlong,  break-neck  race,  in  which  no  heed 
was  paid  to  brush,  fallen  timber,  prairie-dog 
holes.,  or  cut  banks.  The  dust  rose  in  little 
whirling  clouds,  and  through  it  dashed  bolting 
cattle  and  galloping  cowboys,  hither  and 
thither,  while  the  air  was  filled  with  the  shouts 
and  laughter  of  the  men,  and  the  bellowing  of 
the  herd. 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.         39 

As  soon  as  the  herd  was  worked  it  was 
turned  loose,  while  the  cows  and  calves  were 
driven  over  to  a  large  corral,where  the  branding 
was  done.  A  fire  was  speedily  kindled,  and 
in  it  were  laid  the  branding  irons  of  the  dif- 
ferent outfits  represented  on  the  round-up. 
Then  two  of  the  best  ropers  rode  into  the 
corral  and  began  to  rope  the  calves,  round  the 
hind  legs  by  preference,  but  sometimes  round 
the  head.  The  other  men  dismounted  to 
"  wrestle  "  and  brand  them.  Once  roped,  the 
calf,  bawling  and  struggling,  was  swiftly 
dragged  near  the  fire,where  one  or  two  of  the 
calf-wrestlers  grappled  with  and  threw  the 
kicking,  plunging  little  beast,  and  held  it  while 
it  was  branded.  If  the  calf  was  large  the  wres- 
tlers, had  hard  work  ;  and  one  or  two  young 
maverick  bulls — that  is,  unbranded  yearling 
bulls,  which  had  been  passed  by  in  the  round- 
ups of  the  preceding  year — fought  viciously, 
bellowing,  and  charging,  and  driving  some  of 
the  men  up  the  sides  of  the  corral,  to  the  bois- 
terous delight  of  the  others. 

After  watching  the  work  for  a  little  while 
we  left  and  rode  homewards.  Instead  of 
going  along  the  river  bottoms  we  struck  back 
over  the  buttes.  From  time  to  time  we 
came  out  on  some  sharp  bluff  overlooking  the 
river.  From  these  points  of  vantage  we  could 
see  for  several  miles  up  and  down  the  valley 
of  the  Little  Missouri.  The  level  bottoms 
were  walled  in  by  rows  of  sheer  cliffs,  and 
steep,  grassy  slopes.  These  bluff  lines  were 
from  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  a  mile  apart ;  they 
did  not  run  straight,  but  in  a  succession  of 
cnrves,  so  as  to  look  like  the  halves  of  many 

3— 3B 


40  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

amphitheatres.  Between  them  the  river 
swept  in  great  bends  from  side  to  side ;  the 
wide  bed,  brimful  during  the  time  of  freshets, 
now  held  but  a  thin  stream  of  water.  Some 
of  the  bottoms  were  covered  only  with  grass 
and  sage  brush  ;  others  with  a  dense  jungle  of 
trees ;  while  yet  others  looked  like  parks,  the 
cottonwoods  growing  in  curved  lines  or  in 
clumps  scattered  here  and  there. 

On  our  way  we  came  across  a  bunch  of 
cattle,  among  which  the  sharp  eyes  of  my  fore- 
man detected  a  maverick  two-year-old  heifer. 
He  and  one  of  the  cowboys  at  once  got  down 
their  ropes  and  rode  after  her  ;  the  rest  of  us 
first  rounding  up  the  bunch  so  as  to  give  a  fair 
start.  After  a  sharp  run  one  of  the  men, 
swinging  his  lariat  round  his  head,  got  close 
up  ;  in  a  second  or  two  the  noose  settled  round 
the  heifer's  neck,  and  as  it  became  taut  she 
was  brought  to  with  a  jerk;  immediately  after- 
wards the  other  man  made  his  throw  and  clev- 
erly heeled  her.  In  a  trice  the  red  heifer  was 
stretched  helpless  on  the  ground,  the  two 
fierce  little  ponies,  a  pinto  and  a  buckskin, 
keeping  her  down  on  their  own  account,  toss- 
ing their  heads  and  backing  so  that  the  ropes 
which  led  from  the  saddle-horns  to  her  head 
and  hind  feet  never  slackened.  Then  we 
kindled  a  fire ;  one  of  the  cinch  rings  was 
taken  off  to  serve  as  a  branding  iron,  and  the 
heifer  speedily  became  our  property — for  she 
was  on  our  range. 

When  we  reached  the  ranch  it  was  still 
early,  and  after  finishing  dinner  it  lacked  over 
an  hour  of  sundown.  Accordingly  we  went 
for  another  ride;  and  I  carried  my  rifle. 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.         41 

We  started  up  a  winding  coulie  which  opened 
back  of  the  ranch  house  ;  and  after  half  an 
hour's  canter  clambered  up  the  steep  head- 
ravines,  and  emerged  on  a  high  ridge  which 
went  westward,  straight  as  an  arrow,  to  the 
main  divide  between  the  Little  Missouri  and 
the  Big  Beaver.  Along  this  narrow,  grassy 
crest  we  loped  and  galloped ;  we  were  so  high 
that  we  could  look  far  and  wide  over  all  the 
country  round  about.  To  the  southward, 
across  a  dozen  leagues  of  rolling  and  broken 
prairie,  loomed  Sentinel  Butte,  the  chief  land- 
mark of  all  that  region.  Behind  us,  beyond 
the  river,  rose  the  weird  chaos  of  Bad  Lands 
which  at  this  point  lie  for  many  miles  east  of 
the  Little  Missouri.  Their  fantastic  outlines 
were  marked  against  the  sky  as  sharply  as  if 
cut  with  a  knife  ;  their  grim  and  forbidding 
desolation  warmed  into  wonderful  beauty  by 
the  light  of  the  dying  sun.  On  our  right,  as 
we  loped  onwards,  the  land  sunk  away  in 
smooth  green-clad  slopes  and  valleys  ;  on  our 
left  it  fell  in  sheer  walls.  Ahead  of  us  the  sun 
was  sinking  behind  a  mass  of  blood-red  clouds ; 
and  on  either  hand  the  flushed  skies  were 
changing  their  tint  to  a  hundred  hues  of  opal 
and  amethyst.  Our  tireless  little  horses  sprang 
under  us,  thrilling  with  life ;  we  were  riding 
through  a  fairy  world  of  beauty  and  color  and 
limitless  space  and  freedom. 

Suddenly  a  short  hundred  yards  in  front 
three  blacktail  leaped  out  of  a  little  glen  and 
crossed  our  path,  with  the  peculiar  bounding 
gait  of  their  kind.  At  once  I  sprang  from  my 
horse  and,  kneeling,  fired  at  the  last  and  larg- 
est of  the  three.  My  bullet  sped  too  far  back, 


42  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

but  struck  near  the  hip,  and  the  crippled  deef 
went  slowly  down  a  ravine.  Running  over  a 
hillock  to  cut  it  off,  I  found  it  in  some  brush  a 
few  hundred  yards  beyond  and  finished  it  with 
a  second  ball.  Quickly  dressing  it,  I  packed  it 
on  my  horse,  and  trotted  back  leading  him  ; 
an  hour  afterwards  we  saw  through  the  waning 
light  the  quaint,  home-like  outlines  of  the 
ranch  house. 

After  all,  however,  blacktail  can  only  at  times 
be  picked  up  by  chance  in  this  way.  More 
often  it  is  needful  to  kill  them  by  fair  still- 
hunting,  among  the  hills  or  wooded  mountains 
where  they  delight  to  dwell.  If  hunted  they 
speedily  become  wary.  By  choice  they  live 
in  such  broken  country  that  it  is  difficult  to  pur- 
sue them  with  hounds;  and  they  are  by  no 
means  such  water-loving  animals  as  whitetail. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  land  in  which  they  dwell 
is  very  favorable  to  the  still-hunter  who  does 
not  rely  merely  on  stealth,  but  who  can  walk 
and  shoot  well.  They  do  not  go  on  the  open 
prairie,  and,  if  possible,  they  avoid  deep  for- 
ests, while,  being  good  climbers,  they  like  hills. 
In  the  mountains,  therefore,  they  keep  to 
what  is  called  park  country,  where  glades  al- 
ternate with  open  groves.  On  the  great  plains 
they  avoid  both  the  heavily  timbered  river  bot- 
toms and  the  vast  treeless  stretches  of  level  or 
rolling  grass  land  ;  their  chosen  abode  being 
the  broken  and  hilly  region,  scantily  wooded, 
which  skirts  almost  every  plains  river  and 
forms  a  belt,  sometimes  very  narrow,  some- 
times many  miles  in  breadth,  between  the 
alluvial  bottom  land  and  the  prairies  beyond. 
In  these  Bad  Lands  dwarfed  pines  and  cedars 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.          43 

grow  in  the  canyon-like  ravines  and  among 
the  high  steep  hills ;  there  are  also  basins 
and  winding  coulies,  filled  with  brush  and 
shrubbery  and  small  elm  or  ash.  In  all  such 
places  the  blacktail  loves  to  make  its  home. 

I  have  not  often  hunted  blacktail  in  the 
mountains,  because  while  there  I  was  gener- 
ally after  larger  game ;  but  round  my  ranch  I 
have  killed  more  of  them  than  of  any  other 
game,  and  for  me  their  chase  has  always  pos- 
sessed a  peculiar  charm.  We  hunt  them  in 
the  loveliest  season  of  the  year,  the  fall  and 
early  winter,  when  it  is  keen  pleasure  merely 
to  live  out-of-doors.  Sometimes  we  make  a 
regular  trip,  of  several  days'  duration,  taking 
the  ranch  wagon,  with  or  without  a  tent,  to 
some  rugged  and  little  disturbed  spot  where  the 
deer  are  plenty ;  perhaps  returning  with  eight  or 
ten  carcasses,  or  even  more — enough  to  last 
a  long  while  in  cold  weather.  We  often  make 
such  trips  while  laying  in  our  winter  supply  of 
meat. 

At  other  times  we  hunt  directly  from  the 
ranch  house.  We  catch  our  horses  overnight, 
and  are  in  the  saddle  for  an  all-day's  hunt 
long  before  the  first  streak  of  da,wn,  possibly 
not  returning  until  some  hours  after  nightfall 
The  early  morning  and  late  evening  are  the 
best  time  for  hunting  game,  except  in  regions 
where  it  is  hardly  ever  molested,  and  where  in 
consequence  it  moves  about  more  or  less 
throughout  the  day. 

During  the  rut,  which  begins  in  September, 
the  deer  are  in  constant  motion,  and  are  often 
found  in  bands.  The  necks  of  the  bucks 
swell  and  their  sides  grow  gaunt ;  they  chase 


44  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

the  does  all  night,  and  their  flesh  becomes 
strong  and  stringy — far  inferior  to  that  of 
the  barren  does  and  yearlings.  The  old 
bucks  then  wage  desperate  conflicts  with  one 
another,  and  bully  their  smaller  brethren  un- 
mercifully. Unlike  the  elk,  the  blacktail,  like 
the  whitetail,  are  generally  silent  in  the  rutting 
season.  They  occasionally  grunt  when  fighting; 
and  once,  on  a  fall  evening,  I  heard  two  young 
bucks  barking  in  a  ravine  back  of  my  ranch 
house,  and  crept  up  and  shot  them ;  but  this 
was  a  wholly  exceptional  instance. 

At  this  time  I  hunt  on  foot,  only  using  the 
horse  to  carry  me  to  and  from  the  hunting- 
ground;  for  while  rutting,  the  deer,  being 
restless,  do  not  try  to  escape  observation  by 
lying  still,  and  on  the  other  hand  are  apt  to 
wander  about  and  so  are  easily  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance. When  I  have  reached  a  favorable  place 
I  picket  my  horse  and  go  from  vantage  point  to 
vantage  point,  carefully  scanning  the  hillsides, 
ravines,  and  brush  coulies  from  every  spot  that 
affords  a  wide  outlook.  The  quarry  once  seen 
it  may  be  a  matter  of  hours,  or  only  of  min- 
utes, to  approach  it,  accordingly  as  the  wind 
and  cover  are  or  are  not  favorable.  The  walks 
for  many  miles  over  the  hills,  the  exercise  of 
constant  watchfulness,  the  excitement  of  the 
actual  stalk,  and  the  still  greater  excitement 
of  the  shot,  combine  to  make  still-hunting  the 
blacktail,  in  the  sharp  fall  weather,  one  of 
the  most  attractive  of  hardy  outdoor  sports. 
Then  after  the  long,  stumbling  walk  home- 
wards, through  the  cool  gloom  of  the  late 
evening,  comes  the  meal  of  smoking  venison 
and  milk  and  bread,  and  the  sleepy  rest,  lying 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.          45 

on  the  bear-skins,  or  sitting  in  the  rocking 
chair  before  the  roaring  fire,  while  the  icy 
wind  moans  outside. 

Earlier  in  the  season,  while  the  does  are 
still  nursing  the  fawns,  and  until  the  bucks 
have  cleaned  the  last  vestiges  of  velvet  from 
their  antlers,  the  deer  lie  very  close,  and  wan- 
der round  as  little  as  may  be.  In  the  spring 
and  early  summer,  in  the  ranch  country,  we 
hunt  big  game  very  little,  and  then  only  ante- 
lope ;  because  in  hunting  antelope  there  is  no 
danger  of  killing  aught  but  bucks.  About  the 
first  of  August  we  begin  to  hunt  blacktail,  but 
do  not  kill  does  until  a  month  later — and  then 
only  when  short  of  meat.  In  the  early  weeks 
of  the  deer  season  we  frequently  do  even  the 
actual  hunting  on  horseback  instead  of  on 
foot;  because  the  deer  at  this  time  rarely  ap- 
pear in  view,  so  as  to  afford  chance  for  a  stalk, 
and  yet  are  reluctant  to  break  cover  until  very 
closely  approached.  In  consequence  we  keep 
on  our  horses,  and  so  get  over  much  more 
ground  than  on  foot,  beating  through  or  beside 
all  likely  looking  cover,  with  the  object  of 
jumping  the  deer  close  by.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances bucks  sometimes  lie  until  almost 
trodden  on. 

One  afternoon  in  mid-August,  when  the 
ranch  was  entirely  out  of  meat,  I  started  with 
one  of  my  cow-hands,  Merrifield,  to  kill  a 
deer.  We  were  on  a  couple  of  stout,  quiet 
ponies,  accustomed  to  firing  and  to  packing 
game.  After  riding  a  mile  or  two  down  the 
bottoms  we  left  the  river  and  struck  off  up  a 
winding  valley,  which  led  back  among  the  hills. 
In  a  short  while  we  were  in  a  blacktail  coun- 


46  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

try,  and  began  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for 
game,  riding  parallel  to,  but  some  little  dis- 
tance from,  one  another.  The  sun,  beating 
down  through  the  clear  air,  was  very  hot ;  the 
brown  slopes  of  short  grass,  and  "still  more 
the  white  clay  walls  of  the  Bad  Lands,  threw 
the  heat  rays  in  our  faces.  We  skirted 
closely  all  likely-looking  spots,  such  as  the 
heavy  brush-patches  in  the  bottoms  of  the 
winding  valleys,  and  the  groves  of  ash  and 
elm  in  the  basins  and  pockets  flanking  the 
high  plateaus  ;  sometimes  we  followed  a  cat- 
tle trail  which  ran  down  the  middle  of  a  big 
washout,  and  again  we  rode  along  the  brink 
of  a  deep  cedar  canyon.  After  a  while  we 
came  to  a  coulie  with  a  small  muddy  pool  at 
its  mouth ;  and  round  this  pool  there  was 
much  fresh  deer  sign.  The  coulie  was  but 
half  a  mile  long,  heading  into  and  flanked  by 
the  spurs  of  some  steep,  bare  hills.  Its  bot- 
tom, which  was  fifty  yards  or  so  across,  was 
choked  by  a  dense  growth  of  brush,  chiefly 
thorny  bullberries,  while  the  sides  were  formed 
by  cut  banks  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  high. 
My  companion  rode  up  the  middle,  while  I 
scrambled  up  one  of  the  banks,  and,  dis- 
mounting, led  my  horse  along  its  edge,  that 
I  might  have  a  clear  shot  at  whatever  we 
roused.  We  went  nearly  to  the  head,  and 
then  the  cowboy  reined  up  and  shouted  to 
me  that  he  "guessed  there  were  no  deer  in  the 
coulie."  Instantly  there  was  a  smashing  in 
the  young  trees  midway  between  us,  and  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  blacktail  buck  speeding 
round  a  shoulder  of  the  cut  bank :  and  though 
I  took  a  hurried  shot  I  missed.  However, 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH,          47 

another  buck  promptly  jumped  up  from  the 
same  place  ;  evidently  the  two  had  lain  secure 
in  their  day-beds,  shielded  by  the  dense  cover, 
while  the  cowboy  rode  by  them,  and  had  only 
risen  when  he  halted  and  began  to  call  to  me 
across  them.  This  second  buck,  a  fine  fel- 
low with  big  antlers  not  yet  clear  of  velvet, 
luckily  ran  up  the  opposite  bank  and  I  got  a 
fair  shot  at  him  as  he  galloped  broadside  to 
me  along  the  open  hillside.  When  I  fired  he 
rolled  over  with  a  broken  back.  As  we  came 
up  he  bleated  loudly,  an  unusual  thing  for  a 
buck  to  do. 

Now  these  two  bucks  must  have  heard  us 
coming,  but  reckoned  on  our  passing  them  by 
without  seeing  them  ;  which  we  would  have 
done  had  they  not  been  startled  when  the 
cowboy  halted  and  spoke.  Later  in  the  sea- 
son they  would  probably  not  have  let  us  ap- 
proach them,  but  would  have  run  as  soon  as 
they  knew  of  our  presence.  Of  course,  how- 
ever, even  later  in  the  season,  a  man  may  by 
chance  stumble  across  a  deer  close  by.  I 
remember  one  occasion  when  my  ranch 
partner,  Robert  Munro  Ferguson,  and  I  al- 
most corralled  an  unlucky  deer  in  a  small 
washout. 

It  was  October,  and  our  meat  supply  un- 
expectedly gave  out ;  on  our  ranch,  as  on 
most  ranches,  an  occasional  meat  famine  of 
three  or  four  days  intervenes  between  the 
periods  of  plenty.  So  Ferguson  and  I  started 
together,  to  get  venison  ;  and  at  the  end  of 
two  days'  hard  work,  leaving  the  ranch  by 
sunrise,  riding  to  the  hunting  grounds  and 
tramping  steadily  until  dark,  we  succeeded. 


48  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

The  weather  was  stormy  and  there  were  con- 
tinual gusts  of  wind  and  of  cold  rain,  sleet,  or 
snow.  We  hunted  through  a  large  tract  of 
rough  and  broken  country,  six  or  eight  miles 
from  the  ranch.  As  often  happens  in  such 
wild  weather  the  deer  were  wild  too ;  they 
were  watchful  and  were  on  the  move  all  the 
time.  We  saw  a  number,  but  either  they  ran 
off  before  we  could  get  a  shot,  or  if  we  did 
fire  it  was  at  such  a  distance  or  under  such 
unfavorable  circumstances  that  we  missed. 
At  last,  as  we  were  plodding  drearily  up  a 
bare  valley,  the  sodden  mud  caking  round  our 
shoes,  we  roused  three  deer  from  the  mouth 
of  a  short  washout  but  a  few  paces  from  us. 
Two  bounded  off;  the  third  by  mistake 
rushed  into  the  washout,  where  he  found  him- 
self in  a  regular  trap  and  was  promptly  shot 
by  my  companion.  We  slung  the  carcass  on 
a  pole  and  carried  it  down  to  where  we  had 
left  the  horses ;  and  then  we  loped  home- 
wards, bending  to  the  cold  slanting  rain. 

Although  in  places  where  it  is  much  per- 
secuted the  blacktail  is  a  shy  and  wary  beast, 
the  successful  pursuit  of  which  taxes  to  the 
uttermost  the  skill  and  energy  of  the  hunter, 
yet,  like  the  elk,  if  little  molested  it  often 
shows  astonishing  tameness  and  even  stupid- 
ity. In  the  Rockies  I  have  sometimes  come 
on  blacktail  within  a  very  short  distance, 
which  would  merely  stare  at  me,  then  trot  off 
a  few  yards,  turn  and  stare  again,  and  wait 
for  several  minutes  before  really  taking  alarm. 
What  is  much  more  extraordinary  I  have  had 
the  same  thing  happen  to  me  in  certain  little 
hunted  localities  in  the  neighborhood  of  my 


HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH.         49 

ranch,  even  of  recent  years.  In  the  fall  of 
1890  I  was  riding  down  a  canyon-coulie  with 
my  foreman,  Sylvane  Ferris,  and  a  young 
friend  from  Boston,  when  we  almost  rode  over 
a  barren  blacktail  doe.  She  only  ran  some 
fifty  yards,  round  a  corner  of  the  coulie,  and 
then  turned  and  stood  until  we  ran  forward 
and  killed  her — for  we  were  in  need  of  fresh 
meat.  One  October,  a  couple  of  years  before 
this,  my  cousin,  West  Roosevelt,  and  I  took  a 
trip  with  the  wagon  to  a  very  wild  and  rugged 
country,  some  twenty  miles  from  the  ranch. 
We  found  that  the  deer  had  evidently  been 
but  little  disturbed.  One  day  while  scram- 
bling down  a  steep,  brushy  hill,  leading  my 
horse,  I  came  close  on  a  doe  and  fawn  ;  they 
merely  looked  at  me  with  curiosity  for  some 
time,  and  then  sauntered  slowly  off,  remain- 
ing within  shot  for  at  least  five  minutes.  For- 
tunately we  had  plenty  of  meat  at  the  time, 
and  there  was  no  necessity  to  harm  the  grace- 
ful creatures.  A  few  days  later  we  came  on 
two  bucks  sunning  themselves  in  the  bottom 
of  a  valley.  My  companion  killed  one.  The 
other  was  lying  but  a  dozen  rods  off ;  yet  it 
never  moved,  until  several  shots  had  been 
fired  at  the  first.  It  was  directly  under  me 
and  in  my  anxiety  to  avoid  overshooting,  to 
my  horror  I  committed  the  opposite  fault,  and 
away  went  the  buck. 

Every  now  and  then  any  one  will  make 
most  unaccountable  misses.  A  few  days  after 
thus  losing  the  buck  I  spent  nearly  twenty 
cartridges  in  butchering  an  unfortunate  year- 
ling, and  only  killed  it  at  all  because  it  be- 
came so  bewildered  by  the  firing  that  it  hardly 


50  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER, 

tried  to  escape.  I  never  could  tell  why  I 
used  so  many  cartridges  to  such  little  purpose. 
During  the  next  fortnight  I  killed  seven  deer 
without  making  a  single  miss,  though  some  of 
the  shots  were  rather  difficult. 


THE  WHITE  TAIL  DEER.  5! 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  WHITETAIL     DEER;    AND  THE    BLACKTAIL 
OF   THE   COLUMBIA. 

THE  whitetail  deer  is  much  the  commonest 
game  animal  of  the  United  States,  be- 
ing still  found,  though  generally  in  greatly 
diminished  numbers  throughout  most  of 
the  Union.  It  is  a  shrewd,  wary,  knowing 
beast ;  but  it  owes  its  prolonged  stay  in  the 
land  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  it  is  an  inveterate 
skulker,  and  fond  of  the  thickest  cover.  Ac- 
cordingly it  usually  has  to  be  killed  by  stealth 
and  stratagem,  and  not  by  fair,  manly  hunt- 
ing ;  being  quite  easily  slain  in  any  one  of 
half  a  dozen  unsportsmanlike  ways.  In  con- 
sequence I  care  less  for  its  chase  than  for  the 
chase  of  any  other  kind  of  American  big 
game.  Yet  in  the  few  places  where  it  dwells 
in  open,  hilly  forests  and  can  be  killed  by 
still-hunting  as  if  it  were  a  blacktail;  or 
better  still,  where  the  nature  of  the  ground 
is  such  that  it  can  be  run  down  in  fair  chase 
on  horseback,  either  with  greyhounds,  or  with 
a  pack  of  trackhounds,  it  yields  splendid  sport. 
Killing  a  deer  from  a  boat  while  the  poor 
animal  is  swimming  in  the  water,  or  on  snow- 
shoes  as  it  flounders  helplessly  in  the  deep 
drifts,  can  only  be  justified  on  the  plea  of 
hunger.  This  is  also  true  of  lying  in  wait  at 


52  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER 

a  lick.  Whoever  indulges  in  any  of  these 
methods  save  from  necessity,  is  a  butcher, 
pure  and  simple,  and  has  no  business  in  the 
company  of  true  sportsmen. 

Fire  hunting  may  be  placed  in  the  same 
category ;  yet  it  is  possibly  allowable  under 
exceptional  circumstances  to  indulge  in  a  fire 
hunt,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  wilder- 
ness by  torch-light.  My  first  attempt  at  big- 
game  shooting,  when  a  boy,  was  "  jacking  " 
for  deer  in  the  Adirondacks,  on  a  pond  or 
small  lake  surrounded  by  the  grand  northern 
forests  of  birch  and  beech,  pine,  spruce,  and 
fir.  I  killed  a  spike  buck  ;  and  while  I  have 
never  been  willing  to  kill  another  in  this  man- 
ner, I  cannot  say  that  I  regret  having  once 
had  the  experience.  The  ride  over  the  glassy, 
black  water,  the  witchcraft  of  such  silent 
progress  through  the  mystery  of  the  night, 
cannot  but  impress  one.  There  is  pleasure 
in  the  mere  buoyant  gliding  of  the  birch-bark 
canoe,  with  its  curved  bow  and  stern ;  noth- 
ing else  that  floats  possesses  such  grace,  such 
frail  and  delicate  beauty,  as  this  true  craft  of 
the  wilderness,  which  is  as  much  a  creature 
of  the  wild  woods  as  the  deer  and  bear  them- 
selves. The  light  streaming  from  the  bark 
lantern  in  the  bow  cuts  a  glaring  lane  through 
the  gloom  ;  in  it  all  objects  stand  out  like 
magic,  shining  for  a  moment  white  and  ghastly 
and  then  vanishing  into  the  impenetrable 
darkness  ;  while  all  the  time  the  paddler  in 
the  stern  makes  not  so  much  as  a  ripple,  and 
there  is  never  a  sound  but  the  occasional 
splash  of  a  muskrat,  or  the  moaning  uloo-oo — 
uloo-uloo  of  an  owl  from  the  deep  forests  ;  and 


THE  WH1TETAIL  DEER,  53 

at  last  perchance  the  excitement  of  a  shot  at 
a  buck,  standing  at  gaze,  with  luminous  eye- 
balls. 

The  most  common  method  of  killing  the 
whitetail  is  by  hounding ;  that  is,  by  driving 
it  with  hounds  past  runways  where  hunters 
are  stationed — for  all  wild  animals  when  on 
the  move  prefer  to  follow  certain  definite 
routes.  This  is  a  legitimate,  but  inferior,  kind 
of  sport. 

However,  even  killing  driven  deer  may  be 
good  fun  at  certain  times.  Most  of  the  white- 
tail  we  kill  round  the  ranch  are  obtained  in 
this  fashion.  On  the  Little  Missouri — as 
throughout  the  plains  country  generally — these 
deer  cling  to  the  big  wooded  river  bottoms, 
while  the  blacktail  are  found  in  the  broken 
country  back  from  the  river.  The  tangled 
mass  of  cottonwoods,  box-alders,  and  thorny 
bullberry  bushes  which  cover  the  bottoms 
afford  the  deer  a  nearly  secure  shelter  from 
the  still-hunter ;  and  it  is  only  by  the  aid  of 
hounds  that  they  can  be  driven  from  their 
wooded  fastnesses.  They  hold  their  own 
better  than  any  other  game.  The  great  herds 
of  buffalo,  and  the  bands  of  elk,  have  vanished 
completely  ;  the  swarms  of  antelope  and  black- 
tail  have  been  wofully  thinned  ;  but  the  white- 
tail,  which  were  never  found  in  such  throngs 
as  either  buffalo  or  elk,  blacktail  or  antelope, 
have  suffered  far  less  from  the  advent  of  the 
white  hunters,  ranchmen,  and  settlers.  They 
are  of  course  not  as  plentiful  as  formerly  ;  but 
some  are  still  to  be  found  in  almost  all  their 
old  haunts.  Where  the  river,  winding  be- 
tween rows  of  high  buttes,  passes  my  ranch 


54  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

house,  there  is  a  long  succession  of  heavily 
wooded  bottoms  ;  and  on  all  of  these,  even 
on  the  one  whereon  the  house  itself  stands, 
there  are  a  good  many  whitetail  yet  left. 

When  we  take  a  day's  regular  hunt  we  usu- 
ally wander  afar,  either  to  the  hills  after  black- 
tail  or  to  the  open  prairie  after  antelope.  But 
if  we  are  short  of  meat,  and  yet  have  no  time 
for  a  regular  hunt,  being  perhaps  able  to  spare 
only  a  couple  of  hours  after  the  day's  work  is 
over,  then  all  hands  turn  out  to  drive  a  bottom 
for  whitetail.  We  usually  have  one  or  two 
trackhounds  at  the  ranch  ;  true  southern  deer- 
hounds,  black  and  tan,  with  lop  ears  and 
hanging  lips,  their  wrinkled  faces  stamped 
with  an  expression  of  almost  ludicrous  mel- 
ancholy. They  are  not  fast,  and  have  none 
of  the  alert  look  of  the  pied  and  spotted 
modern  foxhound ;  but  their  noses  are  very 
keen,  their  voices  deep  and  mellow,  and  they 
are  wonderfully  staunch  on  a  trail. 

All  is  bustle  and  laughter  as  we  start  on 
such  a  hunt.  The  baying  hounds  bouncl 
about,  as  the  rifles  are  taken  down ;  the  wiry 
ponies  are  roped  out  of  the  corral,  and  each 
broad-hatted  hunter  swings  joyfully  into  the 
saddle.  If  the  pony  bucks  or  "acts  mean" 
the  rider  finds  that  his  rifle  adds  a  new  ele- 
ment of  interest  to  the  performance,  which  is 
of  course  hailed  with  loud  delight  by  all  the 
men  on  quiet  horses.  Then  we  splash  off  over 
the  river,  scramble  across  the  faces  of  the 
bluffs,  or  canter  along  the  winding  cattle  paths, 
through  the  woods,  until  we  come  to  the  bot- 
tom we  intend  to  hunt.  Here  a  hunter  is 
stationed  at  each  runway  along  which  it  is 


THE  WHITE  TAIL  DEER.  55 

deemed  likely  that  the  deer  will  pass;  and 
one  man,  who  has  remained  on  horseback, 
starts  into  the  cover  with  the  hounds ;  oc- 
casionally this  horseman  himself,  skilled,  as 
most  cowboys  are,  in  the  use  of  the  revolver, 
gets  a  chance  to  kill  a  deer.  The  deep  bay- 
ing of  the  hounds  speedily  gives  warning  that 
the  game  is  afoot ;  and  the  watching  hunters, 
who  have  already  hid  their  horses  carefully,  look 
to  their  rifles.  Sometimes  the  deer  comes  far 
ahead  of  the  dogs,  running  very  swiftly  with 
neck  stretched  straight  out ;  and  if  the  cover 
is  thick  such  an  animal  is  hard  to  hit.  At 
other  times,  especially  if  the  quarry  is  a  young 
buck,  it  plays  along  not  very  far  ahead  of  its 
baying  pursuers,  bounding  and  strutting  with 
head  up  and  white  flag  flaunting.  If  struck 
hard,  down  goes  the  flag  at  once,  and  the 
deer  plunges  into  a  staggering  run,  while  the 
hounds  yell  with  eager  ferocity  as  they  follow 
the  bloody  trail.  Usually  we  do  not  have  to 
drive  more  than  one  or  two  bottoms  before 
getting  a  deer,  which  is  forthwith  packed  be- 
hind one  of  the  riders,  as  the  distance  is  not 
great,  and  home  we  come  in  triumph.  Some- 
times, however,  we  fail  to  find  game,  or  the 
deer  take  unguarded  passes,  or  the  shot  is 
missed.  Occasionally  I  have  killed  deer  on 
these  hunts ;  generally  I  have  merely  sat  still 
a  long  while,  listened  to  the  hounds,  and  at 
last  heard  somebody  else  shoot.  In  fact  such 
hunting,  though  good  enough  fun  if  only  tried 
rarely,  would  speedily  pall  if  followed  at  all 
regularly. 

Personally  the  chief  excitement  I  have  had 
in  connection  therewith  has  arisen  from  some 


56  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTERS 

antic  of  my  horse  ;  a  half-broken  bronco  is 
apt  to  become  unnerved  when  a  man  with 
a  gun  tries  to  climb  on  him  in  a  hurry.  On 
one  hunt  in  1890  I  rode  a  wild  animal  named 
Whitefoot.  He  had  been  a  confirmed  and 
very  bad  bucker  three  years  before,  when  I 
had  him  in  my  string  on  the  round-up ;  but 
had  grown  quieter  with  years.  Nevertheless 
I  found  he  had  some  fire  left;  for  a  hasty 
vault  into  the  saddle  on  my  part,  was  followed 
on  his  by  some  very  resolute  pitching.  I 
lost  my  rifle  and  hat,  and  my  revolver  and 
knife  were  bucked  out  of  my  belt ;  but  I  kept 
my  seat  all  right,  and  finally  got  his  head  up 
and  mastered  him  without  letting  him  throw 
himself  over  backwards,  a  trick  he  sometimes 
practised.  Nevertheless,  in  the  first  jump 
when  I  was  taken  unawares,  I  strained  my- 
self across  the  loins,  and  did  not  get  entirely 
over  it  for  six  months. 

To  shoot  running  game  with  the  rifle  it  is 
always  necessary  to  be  a  good  and  quick 
marksman  ;  for  it  is  never  easy  to  kill  an 
animal,  when  in  rapid  motion,  with  a  single 
bullet.  If  on  a  runway  a  man  who  is  a  fairly 
skilful  rifleman,  has  plenty  of  time  for  a 
clear  shot,  on  open  ground,  at  comparatively 
short  distance,  say  under  eighty  yards,  and  if 
the  deer  is  cantering,  he  ought  to  hit ;  at 
least  I  generally  do  under  such  circum- 
stances, by  remembering  to  hold  well  forward, 
in  fact  just  in  front  of  the  deer's  chest.  But 
I  do  not  always  kill  by  any  means ;  quite 
often  when  I  thought  I  held  far  encu^h 
ahead,  my  bullet  has  gone  into  the  buck's 
hips  or  loins.  However,  one  great  feature 


THE  WHITETAIL  DEER.  57 

in  the  use  of  dogs  is  that  they  enable  one 
almost  always  to  recover  wounded  game. 

If  the  animal  is  running  at  full  speed  a 
long  distance  off,  the  difficulty  of  hitting  is  of 
course  very  much  increased;  and  if  the 
country  is  open  the  value  of  a  repeating  rifle 
is  then  felt.  If  the  game  is  bounding  over 
logs  or  dodging  through  underbrush,  the 
difficulty  is  again  increased.  Moreover,  the 
natural  gait  of  the  different  kinds  of  game 
must  be  taken  into  account.  Of  course  the 
larger  kinds,  such  as  elk  and  moose,  are  the 
easiest  to  hit;  then  comes  the  antelope,  in 
spite  of  its  swiftness,  and  the  sheep,  because 
of  the  evenness  of  their  running;  then  the 
whitetail,  with  its  rolling  gallop  ;  and  last  and 
hardest  of  all,  the  blacktail,  because  of  its 
extraordinary  stiff-legged  bounds. 

Sometimes  on  a  runway  the  difficulty  is  not 
that  the  game  is  too  far,  but  that  it  is  too 
close  ;  for  a  deer  may  actually  almost  jump 
on  the  hunter,  surprising  him  out  of  all 
accuracy  of  aim.  Once  something  of  the  sort 
happened  to  me. 

Winter  was  just  beginning.  I  had  been  off 
with  the  ranch  wagon  on  a  last  round-up  of 
the  beef  steers ;  and  had  suffered  a  good 
deal,  as  one  always  does  on  these  cold 
weather  round-ups,  sleeping  out  in  the  snow, 
wrapped  up  in  blankets  and  tarpaulin,  with 
no  tent  and  generally  no  fire.  Moreover,  I 
became  so  weary  of  the  interminable  length 
of  the  nights,  that  I  almost  ceased  to  mind 
the  freezing  misery  of  standing  night  guard 
round  the  restless  cattle;  while  roping, 
saddling,  and  mastering  the  rough  horses 


58  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

each  morning,  with  numbed  and  stiffened 
limbs,  though  warming  to  the  blood  was  har- 
rowing to  the  temper. 

On  my  return  to  the  ranch  I  found  a 
strange  hunter  staying  there  ;  a  clean,  square- 
built,  honest-looking  little  fellow,  but  evi- 
dently not  a  native  American.  As  a  rule, 
nobody  displays  much  curiosity  about  any 
one's  else  antecedents  in  the  Far  West ;  but 
I  happened  to  ask  my  foreman  who  the  new- 
comer was, — chiefly  because  the  said  new- 
comer, evidently  appreciating  the  warmth 
and  comfort  of  the  clean,  roomy,  ranch 
house,  with  its  roaring  fires,  books,  and  good 
fare,  seemed  inclined  to  make  a  permanent 
stay,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country. 
My  foreman,  who  had  a  large  way  of  looking 
at  questions  of  foreign  ethnology  and  geogra- 
phy, responded  with  indifference  :  "  Oh,  he's 
a  kind  of  a  Dutchman ;  but  he  hates  the 
other  Dutch,  mortal.  He's  from  an  island 
Germany  took  from  France  in  the  last  war  !  " 
This  seemed  puzzling;  but  it  turned  out  that 
the  "  island "  in  question  was  Alsace.  Na- 
tive Americans  predominate  among  the 
dwellers  in  and  on  the  borders  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  in  the  wild  country  over  which  the 
great  herds  of  the  cattle-men  roam  ;  and  they 
take  the  lead  in  every  way.  The  sons  of  the 
Germans,  Irish,  and  other  European  new- 
comers are  usually  quick  to  claim  to  be 
"  straight  United  States,"  and  to  disavow  all 
kinship  with  the  fellow-countrymen  of  their 
fathers.  Once,  while  with  a  hunter  bearing  a 
German  name,  we  came  by  chance  on  a 
German  hunting  party  from  one  of  the  eastern 


THE  WHITETAIL  DEER.  59 

cities.  One  of  th«m  remarked  to  my  com- 
panion that  he  must  be  part  German  himself, 
to  which  he  cheerfully  answered:  "Well, 
my  father  was  a  Dutchman,  bat  my  mother 
was  a  white  woman  !  I'm  pretty  white  my- 
self !  "  whereat  the  Germans  glowered  at  him 
gloomily. 

As  we  were  out  of  meat  the  Alsatian  and 
one  of  the  cowboys  and  I  started  down  the 
river  with  a  wagon.  The  first  day  in  camp  it 
rained  hard,  so  that  we  could  not  hunt.  To- 
wards evening  we  grew  tired  of  doing  noth- 
ing, and  as  the  rain  had  become  a  mere  fine 
drizzle,  we  sallied  out  to  drive  one  of  the 
bottoms  for  whitetail.  The  cowboy  and  our 
one  trackhound  plunged  into  the  young  cot- 
tonwobd,  which  grew  thickly  over  the  sandy 
bottom ;  while  the  little  hunter  and  I  took 
our  stands  on  a  cut  bank,  twenty  feet  high 
and  half  a  mile  long,  which  hedged  in  the 
trees  from  behind.  Three  or  four  game 
trails  led  up  through  steep,  narrow  clefts  in 
this  bank ;  and  we  tried  to  watch  these. 
Soon  I  saw  a  deer  in  an  opening  below, 
headed  towards  one  end  of  the  bank,  round 
which  another  game  trail  led ;  and  I  ran  hard 
towards  this  end,  where  it  turned  into  a 
knife-like  ridge  of  clay.  About  fifty  yards 
from  the  point  there  must  have  been  some 
slight  irregularities  in  the  face  of  the  bank, 
enough  to  give  the  deer  a  foothold ;  for  as  I 
ran  along  the  animal  suddenly  bounced  over 
the  crest,  so  close  that  I  could  have  hit  it 
with  my  right  hand.  As  I  tried  to  pull  up 
short  and  swing  round,  my  feet  slipped  from 
under  me  in  the  wet  clay,  and  down  I  went ; 


60  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

while  the  deer  literally  turned  a  terrified 
somersault  backwards.  I  flung  myself  to  the 
edge  and  missed  a  hurried  shot  as  it  raced 
back  on  its  tracks.  Then,  wheeling,  I  saw 
the  little  hunter  running  towards  me  along 
the  top  of  the  cut  bank,  his  face  on  a  broad 
grin.  He  leaped  over  one  of  the  narrow 
clefts,  up  which  a  game  trail  led ;  and  hardly 
was  he  across  before  the  frightened  deer 
bolted  up  it,  not  three  yards  from  his  back. 
He  did  not  turn,  in  spite  of  my  shouting  and 
handwaving,  and  the  frightened  deer,  in  the 
last  stage  of  panic  at  finding  itself  again 
almost  touching  one  of  its  foes,  sped  off 
across  the  grassy  slopes  like  a  quarter  horse. 
When  at  last  the  hunter  did  turn,  it  was  too 
late;  and  our  long-range  fusillade  proved 
harmless.  During  the  next  two  days  I  re- 
deemed myself,  killing  four  deer. 

Coming  back  our  wagon  broke  down,  no  un- 
usual incident  in  ranch-land,  where  there  is 
often  no  road,  while  the  strain  is  great  in 
hauling  through  quicksands,  and  up  or  across 
steep  broken  hills ;  it  rarely  makes  much  dif- 
ference beyond  the  temporary  delay,  for 
plains-men  and  mountain-men  are  very  handy 
and  self-helpful.  Besides,  a  mere  break-down 
sinks  into  nothing  compared  to  having  the 
team  play  out ;  which  is,  of  course,  most  apt 
to  happen  at  the  times  when  it  insures  hard- 
ship and  suffering,  as  in  the  middle  of  a  snow- 
storm, or  when  crossing  a  region  with  no  water. 
However,  the  reinsmen  of  the  plains  must 
needs  face  many  such  accidents,  not  to  speak 
of  runaways,  or  having  the  wagon  pitchpole 
over  on  to  the  team  in  dropping  down  too 


THE  WHITETAIL  DEER.  6l 

steep  a  hillside.  Once  after  "a  three  days' 
rainstorm  some  of  us  tried  to  get  the  ranch 
wagon  along  a  trail  which  led  over  the  ridge 
of  a  gumbo  or  clay  butt^.  The  sticky  stuff 
clogged  our  shoes,  the  horses'  hoofs,  and  the 
wheels  ;  and  it  was  even  more  slippery  than 
it  was  sticky.  Finally  we  struck  a  sloping 
shoulder  ;  with  great  struggling,  pulling,  push- 
ing, and  shouting,  we  reached  the  middle  of 
it,  and  then,  as  one  of  my  men  remarked, 
"  the  whole  darned  outfit  slid  into  the  coulie." 
These  hunting  trips  after  deer  or  antelope 
with  the  wagon  usually  take  four  or  five  days. 
I  always  ride  some  tried  hunting  horse ;  and 
the  wagon  itself  when  on  such  a  hunt  is  apt 
to  lead  a  chequered  career,  as  half  the  time 
there  is  not  the  vestige  of  a  trail  to  follow. 
Moreover  we  often  make  a  hunt  when  the 
good  horses  are  on  the  round-up,  or  otherwise 
employed,  and  we  have  to  get  together  a  scrub 
team  of  cripples  or  else  of  outlaws — vicious 
devils,  only  used  from  dire  need.  The  best 
teamster  for  such  a  hunt  that  we  ever  had  on 
the  ranch  was  a  weather-beaten  old  fellow 
known  as  "  Old  Man  Tompkins."  In  the 
course  of  a  long  career  as  lumberman,  plains 
teamster,  buffalo  hunter,  and  Indian  fighter, 
he  had  passed  several  years  as  a  Rocky 
Mountain  stage  driver;  and  a  stage  driver  of 
the  Rockies  is  of  necessity  a  man  of  such  skill 
and  nerve  that  he  fears  no  team  and  no  coun- 
try. No  matter  how  wild  the  unbroken  horses, 
Old  Tompkins  never  asked  help ;  and  he 
hated  to  drive  less  than  a  four-in-hand.  When 
he  once  had  a  grip  on  the  reins,  he  let  no  one 
hold  the  horses'  heads.  All  he  wished  was 


62  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

an  open  plain  for  the  rush  at  the  beginning. 
The  first  plunge  might  take  the  wheelers'  fore- 
feet over  the  cross-bars  of  the  leaders,  but  he 
never  stopped  for  that;  on  went  the  team, 
running,  bounding,  rearing,  tumbling,  while 
the  wagon  leaped  behind,  until  gradually 
things  straightened  out  of  their  own  accord. 
I  soon  found,  however,  that  I  could  not  allow 
him  to  carry  a  rifle  ;  for  he  was  an  inveterate 
game  butcher.  In  the  presence  of  game  the 
old  fellow  became  fairly  wild  with  excitement, 
and  forgot  the  years  and  rheumatism  which 
had  crippled  him.  Once,  after  a  long  and 
tiresome  day's  hunt,  we  were  walking  home 
together;  he  was  carrying  his  boots  in  his 
hands,  bemoaning  the  fact  that  his  feet  hurt 
him.  Suddenly  a  whitetail  jumped  up;  down 
dropped  Old  Tompkins'  boots,  and  away  he 
went  like  a  college  sprinter,  entirely  heedless 
of  stones  and  cactus.  By  some  indiscriminate 
firing  at  long  range  we  dropped  the  deer ;  and 
as  Old  Tompkins  cooled  down  he  realized  that 
his  bare  feet  had  paid  full  penalty  for  his  dash. 
One  of  these  wagon  trips  I  remember  be- 
cause I  missed  a  fair  running  shot  which  I 
much  desired  to  hit ;  and  afterwards  hit  a 
very  much  more  difficult  shot  about  which  I 
cared  very  little.  Ferguson  and  I,  with  Syl- 
vane  and  one  or  two  others,  had  gone  a  day's 
journey  down  the  river  for  a  hunt.  We  went 
along  the  bottoms,  crossing  the  stream  every 
mile  or  so,  with  an  occasional  struggle  through 
mud  or  quicksand,  or  up  the  steep,  rotten 
banks.  An  old  buffalo  hunter  drove  the 
wagon,  with  a  couple  of  shaggy,  bandy-legged 
ponies ;  the  rest  of  us  jogged  along  in  front 


THE  WHITE  TAIL  DEER.  63 

on  horseback,  picking  out  a  trail  through  the 
bottoms  and  choosing  the  best  crossing  places. 
Some  of  the  bottoms  were  grassy  pastures  ;  on 
others  great,  gnarled  cottonwoods,  with  shiv- 
ered branches  stood  in  clumps ;  yet  others 
were  choked  with  a  true  forest  growth.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  we  went  into  camp,  choosing 
a  spot  where  the  cottonwoods  were  young; 
their  glossy  leaves  trembled  and  rustled  un- 
ceasingly. We  speedily  picketed  the  horses 
— changing  them  about  as  they  ate  off  the 
grass, — drew  water,  and  hauled  great  logs  in 
front  of  where  we  had  pitched  the  tent,  while 
the  wagon  stood  nearby.  Each  man  laid  out 
his  bed ;  the  food  and  kitchen  kit  were  taken 
from  the  wagon ;  supper  was  cooked  and 
eaten ;  and  we  then  lay  round  the  camp-fire, 
gazing  into  it,  or  up  at  the  brilliant  stars,  and 
listening  to  the  wild,  mournful  wailing  of  the 
coyotes.  They  were  very  plentiful  round  this 
camp ;  before  sunrise  and  after  sundown  they 
called  unceasingly. 

Next  day  I  took  a  long  tramp  and  climb 
after  mountain  sheep  and  missed  a  running 
shot  at  a  fine  ram,  about  a  hundred  yards  off ; 
or  rather  I  hit  him  and  followed  his  bloody 
trail  a  couple  of  miles,  but  failed  to  find  him  ; 
whereat  I  returned  to  camp  much  cast  down. 

Early  the  following  morning  Sylvane  and  I 
started  for  another  hunt,  this  time  on  horse- 
back. The  air  was  crisp  and  pleasant ;  the 
beams  of  the  just-risen  sun  struck  sharply  on 
the  umber-colored  hills  and  white  cliff  walls 
guarding  the  river,  bringing  into  high  relief 
their  strangely  carved  and  channelled  fronts. 
Below  camp  the  river  was  little  but  a  succes 
3—3 


64  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

sion  of  shallow  pools  strung  along  the  broad 
sandy  bed  which  in  spring-time  was  filled 
from  bank  to  bank  with  foaming  muddy  water. 
Two  mallards  sat  in  one  of  these  pools ;  and 
I  hit  one  with  the  rifle,  so  nearly  missing  that 
the  ball  scarcely  ruffled  a  feather ;  yet  in  some 
way  the  shock  told,  for  the  bird  after  flying 
thirty  yards  dropped  on  the  sand. 

Then  we  left  the  river  and  our  active  ponies 
scrambled  up  a  small  canyon-like  break  in  the 
bluffs.  All  day  we  rode  among  the  hills ; 
sometimes  across  rounded  slopes,  matted  with 
short  buffalo  grass  ;  sometimes  over  barren 
buttes  of  red  or  white  clay,  where  only  sage 
brush  and  cactus  grew;  or  beside  deep 
ravines,  black  with  stunted  cedar;  or  along 
beautiful  winding  coulies,  where  the  grass 
grew  rankly,  and  the  thickets  of  ash  and  wild 
plum  made  brilliant  splashes  of  red  and  yellow 
and  tender  green.  Yet  we  saw  nothing. 

As  evening  grew  on  we  rode  riverwards  ;  we 
slid  down  the  steep  bluff  walls,  and  loped  across 
a  great  bottom  of  sage  brush  and  tall  grass, 
our  horses  now  and  then  leaping  like  cats  over 
the  trunks  of  dead  cottonwoods.  As  we  came 
to  the  brink  of  the  cut  bank  which  forms  the 
hither  boundary  of  the  river  in  freshet  time, 
we  suddenly  saw  two  deer,  a  doe  and  a  well 
grown  fawn — of  course  long  out  of  the  spotted 
coat.  They  were  walking  with  heads  down 
along  the  edge  of  a  sand-bar,  near  a  pool,  on 
the  farther  side  of  the  stream  bed,  over  two 
hundred  yards  distant.  They  saw  us  at  once, 
and  turning,  galloped  away,  with  flags  aloft, 
the  pictures  of  springing,  vigorous  beauty.  I 
jumped  off  my  horse  in  an  instant,  knelt,  and 


THE  WHITE  TAIL  DEER.  65 

covered  the  fawn.  It  was  going  straight  away 
from  me,  running  very  evenly,  and  I  drew  a 
coarse  sight  at  the  tip  of  the  white  flag.  As 
I  pulled  trigger  down  went  the  deer,  the  ball 
having  gone  into  the  back  of  its  head.  The 
distance  was  a  good  three  hundred  yards  ;  and 
while  of  course  there  was  much  more  chance 
than  skill  in  the  shot  I  felt  well  pleased  with 
it — though  I  could  not  help  a  regret  that 
while  making  such  a  difficult  shot  at  a  mere 
whitetail  I  should  have  missed  a  much  easier 
shot  at  a  noble  bighorn.  Not  only  I,  but  all 
the  camp,  had  a  practical  interest  in  my  suc- 
cess ;  for  we  had  no  fresh  meat,  and  a  fat 
whitetail  fawn,  killed  in  October,  yields  the 
best  of  venison.  So  after  dressing  the  deer  I 
slung  the  carcass  behind  my  saddle,  and  we 
rode  swiftly  back  to  camp  through  the  dark  ; 
and  that  evening  we  feasted  on  the  juicy 
roasted  ribs. 

The  degree  of  tameness  and  unsuspicious- 
ness  shown  by  whitetail  deer  depends,  of 
course,  upon  the  amount  of  molestation  to 
which  they  are  exposed.  Their  times  for 
sleeping,  feeding,  and  coming  to  water  vary 
from  the  same  cause.  Where  they  are  little 
persecuted  they  feed  long  after  sunrise  and 
before  sunset,  and  drink  when  the  sun  is  high 
in  the  heavens,  sometimes  even  at  midday; 
they  then  show  but  little  fear  of  man,  and 
speedily  become  indifferent  to  the  presence 
of  deserted  dwellings. 

In  the  cattle  country  the  ranch  houses  are 
often  shut  during  the  months  of  warm  weather, 
when  the  round-ups  succeed  one  another 
without  intermission,  as  the  calves  must  be 


66  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

branded,  the  beeves  gathered  and  shipped, 
long  trips  made  to  collect  strayed  animals, 
and  the  trail  stock  driven  from  the  breeding 
to  the  fattening  grounds.  At  that  time  all 
the  men-folk  may  have  to  be  away  in  the 
white-topped  wagons,  working  among  the 
horned  herds,  whether  plodding  along  the 
trail,  or  wandering  to  and  fro  on  the  range. 
Late  one  summer,  when  my  own  house  had 
been  thus  closed  for  many  months,  I  rode 
thither  with  a  friend  to  pass  a  week.  The 
place  already  wore  the  look  of  having  slipped 
away  from  the  domain  of  man.  The  wild 
forces,  barely  thrust  back  beyond  the  thresh- 
old of  our  habitation,  were  prompt  to  spring 
across  it  to  renewed  possession  the  moment 
we  withdrew.  The  rank  grass  grew  tall  in  the 
yard,  and  on  the  sodded  roofs  of  the  stable 
and  sheds ;  the  weather-beaten  log  walls  of 
the  house  itself  were  one  in  tint  with  the 
trunks  of  the  gnarled  cottonwoods  by  which 
it  was  shaded.  Evidently  the  woodland 
creatures  had  come  to  regard  the  silent,  de- 
serted buildings  as  mere  outgrowths  of  the 
wilderness,  no  more  to  be  feared  than  the 
trees  around  them  or  the  gray,  strangely 
shaped  buttes  behind. 

Lines  of  delicate,  heart-shaped  footprints 
in  the  muddy  reaches  of  the  half-dry  river-bed 
showed  where  the  deer  came  to  water  ;  and 
in  the  dusty  cattle-trails  among  the  ravines 
many  round  tracks  betrayed  the  passing  and 
repassing  of  timber  wolves, — once  or  twice  in 
the  late  evening  we  listened  to  their  savage 
and  melancholy  howling.  Cotton-tail  rabbits 
burrowed  under  the  verandah.  Within  doors 


THE  WHITE  TAIL  DEER.  6f 

the  bushy-tailed  pack-rats  had  possession, 
and  at  night  they  held  a  perfect  witches' 
sabbath  in  the  garret  and  kitchen  ;  while  a 
little  white-footed  mouse,  having  dragged  half 
the  stuffing  out  of  a  mattress,  had  made  there- 
of a  big  fluffy  nest,  entirely  filling  the  oven. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  abundant  sign  of  game, 
we  at  first  suffered  under  one  of  those  spells 
of  ill-luck  which  at  times  befall  all  hunters, 
and  for  several  days  we  could  kill  nothing, 
though  we  tried  hard,  being  in  need  of  fresh 
meat.  The  moon  was  full — each  evening, 
sitting  on  the  ranch  verandah,  or  walking 
homeward,  we  watched  it  rise  over  the  line  of 
bluffs  beyond  the  river — and  the  deer  were 
feeding  at  night ;  moreover  in  such  hot 
weather  they  lie  very  close,  move  as  little  as 
possible,  and  are  most  difficult  to  find.  Twice 
we  lay  out  from  dusk  until  dawn,  in  spite  of 
the  mosquitoes,  but  saw  nothing;  and  the 
chances  we  did  get  we  failed  to  profit  by. 

One  morning,  instead  of  trudging  out  to 
hunt  I  stayed  at  home,  and  sat  in  a  rocking- 
chair  on  the  verandah  reading,  rocking,  or 
just  sitting  still  listening  to  the  low  rustling 
of  the  cottonwood  branches  overhead,  and 
gazing  across  the  river.  Through  the  still, 
clear,  hot  air,  the  faces  of  the  bluffs  shone 
dazzling  white ;  no  shadow  fell  from  the  cloud- 
less sky  on  the  grassy  slopes,  or  on  the  groves 
of  timber ;  only  the  faraway  cooing  of  a 
mourning  dove  broke  the  silence.  Suddenly 
my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  slight  splash- 
ing in  the  water  ;  glancing  up  from  my  book 
I  saw  three  deer,  which  had  come  out  of  the 
thick  fringe  of  bushes  and  young  trees  across 


68  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

the  river,  and  were  strolling  along  the  sand' 
bars  directly  opposite  me.  Slipping  stealthily 
into  the  house  I  picked  up  my  rifle,  and 
slipped  back  again.  One  of  the  deer  was 
standing  motionless,  broadside  to  me;  it  was 
a  long  shot,  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards, 
but  I  had  a  rest  against  a  pillar  of  the  ve- 
randah. I  held  true,  and  as  the  smoke  cleared 
away  the  deer  lay  struggling  on  the  sands. 

As  the  whitetail  is  the  most  common  and 
widely  distributed  of  American  game,  so  the 
Columbian  blacktail  has  the  most  sharply 
limited  geographical  range ;  for  it  is  confined 
to  the  northwest  coast,  where  it  is  by  far  the 
most  abundant  deer.  In  antlers  it  is  indis- 
tinguishable from  the  common  blacktail  of  the 
Rockies  and  the  great  plains,  and  it  has  the 
regular  blacktail  gait,  a  succession  of  stiff- 
legged  bounds  on  all  four  feet  at  once ;  but 
its  tail  is  more  like  a  whitetail's  in  shape, 
though  black  above.  As  regards  methods  of 
hunting,  and  the  amount  of  sport  yielded,  it 
stands  midway  between  its  two  brethren.  It 
lives  in  a  land  of  magnificent  timber,  where 
the  trees  tower  far  into  the  sky,  the  giants  of 
their  kind  ;  and  there  are  few  more  attractive 
sports  than  still-hunting  on  the  mountains, 
among  these  forests  of  marvellous  beauty  and 
grandeur.  There  are  many  lakes  among  the 
mountains  where  it  dwells,  and  as  it  cares 
more  for  water  than  the  ordinary  blacktail,  it 
is  comparatively  easy  for  hounds  to  drive  it 
into  some  pond  where  it  can  be  killed  at  lei- 
sure. It  is  thus  often  killed  by  hounding. 

The  only  one  I  ever  killed  was  a  fine  young 


THE  WHITE  TAIL  DEER.  69 

buck.  We  had  camped  near  a  little  pond, 
and  as  evening  fell  I  strolled  off  towards  it 
and  sat  down.  Just  after  sunset  the  buck 
came  out  of  the  woods.  For  some  moments 
he  hesitated  and  then  walked  forward  and 
stood  by  the  edge  of  the  water,  about  sixty 
yards  from  me.  We  were  out  of  meat,  so  I 
held  right  behind  his  shoulder,  and  though  he 
went  off,  his  bounds  were  short  and  weak,  and 
he  fell  before  he  reached  the  wood. 


70  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON   THE  CATTLE     RANGES  ;    THE    PRONG-HORN 

ANTELOPE. 

EARLY  one  June  just  after  the  close  of  the 
regular  spring  round-up,  a  couple  of 
wagons,  with  a  score  of  riders  between  them, 
were  sent  to  work  some  hitherto  untouched 
country,  between  the  Little  Missouri  and  the 
Yellowstone.  I  was  to  go  as  the  representa- 
tive of  our  own  and  of  one  or  two  neighbor- 
ing brands ;  but  as  the  round-up  had  halted 
near  my  ranch  I  determined  to  spend  a  day 
there,  and  then  to  join  the  wagons ; — the  ap- 
pointed meeting-place  being  a  cluster  of  red 
scoria  buttes,  some  forty  miles  distant,  where 
there  was  a  spring  of  good  water. 

Most  of  my  day  at  the  ranch  was  spent  in 
slumber;  for  I  had  been  several  weeks  on 
the  round-up,  where  nobody  ever  gets  quite 
enough  sleep.  This  is  the  only  drawback  to 
the  work  ;  otherwise  it  is  pleasant  and  excit- 
ing, with  just  that  slight  touch  of  danger  nec- 
essary to  give  it  zest,  and  without  the  wear- 
ing fatigue  of  such  labor  as  lumbering  or  min- 
ing. But  there  is  never  enough  sleep,  at  least 
on  the  spring  and  mid-summer  round-ups. 
The  men  are  in  the  saddle  from  dawn  until 
dusk,  at  the  time  when  the  days  are  longest 
on  these  great  northern  plains  ;  and  in  addi- 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES.  71 

tion  there  is  the  regular  night  guarding  and 
now  and  then  a  furious  storm  or  a  stampede, 
when  for  twenty-four  hours  at  a  stretch  the 
riders  only  dismount  to  change  horses  or 
snatch  a  mouthful  of  food. 

I  started  in  the  bright  sunrise,  riding  one 
horse  and  driving  loose  before  me  eight 
others,  one  carrying  my  bedding.  They 
travelled  strung  out  in  single  file.  I  kept 
them  trotting  and  loping,  for  loose  horses  are 
easiest  to  handle  when  driven  at  some  speed, 
and  moreover  the  way  was  long.  My  rifle 
was  slung  under  my  thigh ;  the  lariat  was 
looped  on  the  saddle-horn. 

At  first  our  trail  led  through  winding  cou- 
lies,  and  sharp  grassy  defiles ;  the  air  was 
wonderfully  clear,  the  flowers  were  in  bloom, 
the  breath  of  the  wind  in  my  face  was  odorous 
and  sweet.  The  patter  and  beat  of  the  un- 
shod hoofs,  rising  in  half-rhythmic  measure, 
frightened  the  scudding  deer  ;  but  the  yellow- 
breasted  meadow  larks,  perched  on  the  bud- 
ding tops  of  the  bushes,  sang  their  rich  full 
songs  without  heeding  us  as  we  went  by. 

When  the  sun  was  well  on  high  and  the 
heat  of  the  day  had  begun  we  came  to  a 
dreary  and  barren  plain,  broken  by  rows  of 
low  clay  buttes.  The  ground  in  places  was 
whitened  by  alkali;  elsewhere  it  was  dull 
gray.  Here  there  grew  nothing  save  sparse 
tufts  of  coarse  grass,  and  cactus,  and  sprawl- 
ing sage  brush.  In  the  hot  air  all  things 
seen  afar  danced  and  wavered.  As  I  rode 
and  gazed  at  the  shimmering  haze  the  vast 
desolation  of  the  landscape  bore  on  me,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  unseen  and  unknown  powers 

3-3  B 


72  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

of  the  wastes  were  moving  by  and  marshal- 
ling their  silent  forces.  No  man  save  the 
wilderness  dweller  knows  the  strong  melan- 
choly fascination  of  these  long  rides  through 
lonely  lands. 

At  noon,  that  the  horses  might  graze  and 
drink,  I  halted  where  some  box-alders  grew 
by  a  pool  in  the  bed  of  a  half-dry  creek  ;  and 
shifted  my  saddle  to  a  fresh  beast.  When  we 
started  again  we  came  out  on  the  rolling 
prairie,  where  the  green  sea  of  wind-rippled 
grass  stretched  limitless  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  Little  striped  gophers  scuttled 
away,  or  stood  perfectly  straight  at  the 
mouths  of  their  burrows,  looking  like  picket 
pins.  Curlews  clamored  mournfully  as  they 
circled  overhead.  Prairie  fowl  swept  off, 
clucking  and  calling,  or  strutted  about  with 
their  sharp  tails  erect.  Antelope  were  very 
plentiful,  running  like  race-horses  across  the 
level,  or  uttering  their  queer,  barking  grunt  as 
they  stood  at  gaze,  the  white  hairs  on  their 
rumps  all  on  end,  their  neck  bands  of  broken 
brown  and  white  vivid  in  the  sunlight.  They 
were  found  singly  or  in  small  straggling 
parties  ;  the  master  bucks  had  not  yet  begun 
to  drive  out  the  younger  and  weaker  ones  as 
later  in  the  season,  when  each  would  gather 
into  a  herd  as  many  does  as  his  jealous 
strength  could  guard  from  rivals.  The  nurs- 
ing does  whose  kids  had  come  early  were 
often  found  with  the  bands  ;  the  others  kept 
apart.  The  kids  were  very  conspicuous 
figures  on  the  prairies,  across  which  they 
scudded  like  jack  rabbits,  showing  nearly  as 
much  speed  and  alertness  as  their  parents  ; 


ON  THE  CA  TTLE  RANGES.  73 

only  the  very  young  sought  safety  by  lying 
flat  to  escape  notice. 

The  horses  cantered  and  trotted  steadily 
over  the  mat  of  buffalo  grass,  steering  for  the 
group  of  low  scoria  mounds  which  was  my 
goal.  In  mid-afternoon  I  reached  it.  The 
two  wagons  were  drawn  up  near  the  spring  ; 
under  them  lay  the  night-wranglers,  asleep ; 
nearby  the  teamster-cooks  were  busy  about 
the  evening  meal.  A  little  way  off  the  two 
day-wranglers  were  watching  the  horse-herd  ; 
into  which  I  speedily  turned  my  own  animals. 
The  riders  had  already  driven  in  the  bunches 
of  cattle  ;  and  were  engaged  in  branding  the 
calves,  and  turning  loose  the  animals  that 
were  not  needed,  while  the  remainder  were 
kept,  forming  the  nucleus  of  the  herd  which 
was  to  accompany  the  wagon. 

As  soon  as  the  work  was  over  the  men  rode 
to  the  wagons  ;  sinewy  fellows,  with  tattered 
broad-brimmed  hats  and  clanking  spurs,  some 
wearing  leather  shaps  or  leggings,  others 
having  their  trousers  tucked  into  their  high- 
heeled  top-boots,  all  with  their  flannel  shirts 
and  loose  neckerchiefs  dusty  and  sweaty.  A 
few  were  indulging  in  rough,  good-natured 
horse  play,  to  an  accompaniment  of  yelling 
mirth ;  most  were  grave  and  taciturn,  greeting 
me  with  a  silent  nod  or  a  "  How  1  friend."  A 
very  talkative  man,  unless  the  acknowledged 
wit  of  the  party,  according  to  the  somewhat 
florid  frontier  notion  of  wit,  is  always  looked 
on  with  disfavor  in  a  cow-camp.  After  supper, 
eaten  in  silent  haste,  we  gathered  round  the 
embers  of  the  small  fires,  and  the  conversa- 
tion glanced  fitfully  over  the  threadbare  sub- 


74  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

jects  common  to  all  such  camps ;  the  antics 
of  some  particularly  vicious  bucking  bronco, 
how  the  different  brands  of  cattle  were  show- 
ing up,  the  smallness  of  the  calf  drop,  the 
respective  merits  of  rawhide  lariats  and  grass 
ropes,  and  bits  of  rather  startling  and  violent 
news  concerning  the  fates  of  certain  neigh- 
bors. Then  one  by  one  we  began  to  turn  in 
under  our  blankets. 

Our  wagon  was  to  furnish  the  night  guards 
for  the  cattle  ;  and  each  of  us  had  his  gentlest 
horse  tied  ready  to  hand.  The  night  guards 
went  on  duty  two  at  a  time  for  two-hour 
watches.  By  good  luck  my  watch  came  last. 
My  comrade  was  a  happy-go-lucky  young 
Texan  who  for  some  inscrutable  reason  was 
known  as  "  Latigo  Strap  "  ;  he  had  just  come 
from  the  south  with  a  big  drove  of  trail  cattle. 

A  few  minutes  before  two  one  of  the  guards 
who  had  gone  on  duty  at  midnight  rode  into 
camp  and  wakened  us  by  shaking  our  shoul- 
ders. Fumbling  in  the  dark  I  speedily 
saddled  my  horse  ;  Latigo  had  left  his  saddled, 
and  he  started  ahead  of  me.  One  of  the  an- 
noyances of  night  guarding,  at  least  in  thick 
weather,  is  the  occasional  difficulty  of  rinding 
the  herd  after  leaving  camp,  or  in  returning 
to  camp  after  the  watch  is  over ;  there  are 
few  things  more  exasperating  than  to  be  help- 
lessly wandering  about  in  the  dark  under  such 
circumstances.  However,  on  this  occasion 
there  was  no  such  trouble  ;  for  it  was  a  bril- 
liant starlight  night  and  the  herd  had  been 
bedded  down  by  a  sugar-loaf  butte  which 
made  a  good  landmark.  As  we  reached  the 
spot  we  could  make  out  the  loom  of  the  cattle 


ON  THE  CA  TTLE  RANGES.  75 

lying  close  together  on  the  level  plain  ;  and 
then  the  dim  figure  of  a  horseman  rose  vaguely 
from  the  darkness  and  moved  by  in  silence  ; 
it  was  the  other  of  the  two  midnight  guards, 
on  his  way  back  to  his  broken  slumber. 

At  once  we  began  to  ride  slowly  round  the 
cattle  in  opposite  directions.  We  were  silent, 
for  the  night  was  clear,  and  the  herd  quiet ; 
in  wild  weather,  when  the  cattle  are  restless, 
the  cowboys  never  cease  calling  and  singing 
as  they  circle  them,  for  the  sounds  seem  to 
quiet  the  beasts. 

For  over  an  hour  we  steadily  paced  the  end- 
less round,  saying  nothing,  with  our  great,- 
coats  buttoned,  for  the  air  is  chill  towards 
morning  on  the  northern  plains,  even  in  sum- 
mer. Then  faint  streaks  of  gray  appeared  in 
the  east.  Latigo  Strap  began  to  call  merrily 
to  the  cattle.  A  coyote  came  sneaking  over 
the  butte  nearby,  and  halted  to  yell  and  wail ; 
afterwards  he  crossed  the  coulie  and  from  the 
hillside  opposite  again  shrieked  in  dismal 
crescendo.  The  dawn  brightened  rapidly ; 
the  little  skylarks  of  the  plains  began  to  sing, 
soaring  far  overhead,  while  it  was  still  much 
too  dark  to  see  them.  Their  song  is  not 
powerful,  but  it  is  so  clear  and  fresh  and  long- 
continued  that  it  always  appeals  to  one  very 
strongly;  especially  because  it  is  most  often 
heard  in  the  rose-tinted  air  of  the  glorious 
mornings,  while  the  listener  sits  in  the  saddle, 
looking  across  the  endless  sweep  of  the 
prairies. 

As  it  grew  lighter  the  cattle  became  rest- 
less, rising  and  stretching  themselves,  while 
we  continued  to  ride  round  them. 


76  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

"  Then  the  bronc'  began  to  pitch 

And  I  began  to  ride  ; 
He  bucked  me  off  a  cut  bank, 
Hell !  I  nearly  died  1  " 

sang  Latigo  from  the  other  side  of  the  herd. 
A  yell  from  the  wagons  told  that  the  cook 
was  summoning  the  sleeping  cow-punchers  to 
breakfast ;  we  were  soon  able  to  distinguish 
their  figures  as  they  rolled  out  of  their  bed- 
ding, wrapped  and  corded  it  into  bundles, 
and  huddled  sullenly  round  the  little  fires. 
The  horse  wranglers  were  driving  in  the 
saddle  bands.  All  the  cattle  got  on  their  feet 
and  started  feeding.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
hasty  breakfast  at  the  wagons  had  evidently 
been  despatched  for  we  could  see  the  men 
forming  rope  corrals  into  which  the  ponies 
were  driven ;  then  each  men  saddled,  bridled, 
and  mounted  his  horse,  two  or  three  of  the 
half-broken  beasts  bucking,  rearing,  and 
plunging  frantically  in  the  vain  effort  to  un- 
seat their  riders. 

The  two  men  who  were  first  in  the  saddle 
relieved  Latigo  and  myself,  and  we  immedi- 
ately galloped  to  camp,  shifted  our  saddles  to 
fresh  animals,  gulped  down  a  cup  or  two  of 
hot  coffee,  and  some  pork,  beans,  and  bread, 
and  rode  to  the  spot  where  the  others  were 
gathered,  lolling  loosely  in  their  saddles,  and 
waiting  for  the  round-up  boss  to  assign  them 
their  tasks.  We  were  the  last,  and  as  soon 
as  we  arrived  the  boss  divided  all  into  two 
parties  for  the  morning  work,  or  "  circle  rid- 
ing," whereby  the  cattle  were  to  be  gathered 
for  the  round-up  proper.  Then,  as  the  others 
started,  he  turned  to  me  and  remarked : 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES.  77 

«  We  've  got  enough  hands  to  drive  this  open 
country  without  you  ;  but  we  're  out  of  meat, 
and  I  don't  want  to  kill  a  beef  for  such  a 
small  outfit ;  can't  you  shoot  some  antelope 
this  morning  ?  We  '11  pitch  camp  by  the  big 
blasted  cottonwood  at  the  foot  of  the  ash 
coulies,  over  yonder,  below  the  breaks  of  Dry 
Creek." 

Of  course  I  gladly  assented,  and  was  speed- 
ily riding  alone  across  the  grassy  slopes.  There 
was  no  lack  of  the  game  I  was  after,  for  from 
every  rise  of  ground  I  could  see  antelope 
scattered  across  the  prairie,  singly,  in  couples, 
or  in  bands.  But  their  very  numbers,  joined 
to  the  lack  of  cover  on  such  an  open,  flattish 
country,  proved  a  bar  to  success  ;  while  I  was 
stalking  one  band  another  was  sure  to  see  me 
and  begin  running,  whereat  the  first  would 
likewise  start ;  I  missed  one  or  two  very  long 
shots,  and  noon  found  me  still  without  game. 

However,  I  was  then  lucky  enough  to  see  a 
band  of  a  dozen  feeding  to  windward  of  a 
small  butte,  and  by  galloping  in  along  circle  I 
got  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  them  before 
having  to  dismount.  The  stalk  itself  was 
almost  too  easy ;  for  I  simply  walked  to  the 
butte,  climbed  carefully  up  a  slope  where  the 
soil  was  firm  and  peered  over  the  top  to  see 
the  herd,  a  little  one,  a  hundred  yards  off. 
They  saw  me  at  once  and  ran,  but  I  held  well 
ahead  of  a  fine  young  prong-buck,  and  rolled 
him  over  like  a  rabbit,  with  both  shoulders 
broken.  In  a  few  minutes  I  was  riding  on- 
wards once  more  with  the  buck  lashed  behind 
my  saddle. 

The  next  one  I  got,  a  couple  of  hours  later, 


78          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

offered  a  much  more  puzzling  stalk.  He  was 
a  big  fellow  in  company  with  four  does  or 
small  bucks.  All  five  were  lying  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  slight  basin,  at  the  head  of  a  gentle 
valley.  At  first  sight  it  seemed  impossible  to 
get  near  them,  for  there  was  not  so  much 
cover  as  a  sage  brush,  and  the  smooth,  shal- 
low basin  in  which  they  lay  was  over  a  thou- 
sand yards  across,  while  they  were  looking 
directly  down  the  valley.  However,  it  is 
curious  how  hard  it  is  to  tell,  even  from  near- 
by, whether  a  stalk  can  or  cannot  be  made ; 
the  difficulty  being  to  estimate  the  exact 
amount  of  shelter  yielded  by  little  inequali- 
ties of  ground.  In  this  instance  a  small 
shallow  watercourse,  entirely  dry,  ran  along 
the  valley,  and  after  much  study  I  decided  to 
try  to  crawl  up  it,  although  the  big  bulging 
telescopic  eyes  of  the  prong-buck — which 
have  much  keener  sight  than  deer  or  any 
other  game — would  in  such  case  be  pointed 
directly  my  way. 

Having  made  up  my  mind  I  backed  cau- 
tiously down  from  the  coign  of  vantage 
whence  I  had  first  seen  the  game,  and  ran 
about  a  mile  to  the  mouth  of  a  washout 
which  formed  the  continuation  of  the  water- 
course in  question.  Protected  by  the  high 
clay  banks  of  this  washout  I  was  able  to  walk 
upright  until  within  half  a  mile  of  the  prong- 
bucks  ;  then  my  progress  became  very  tedious 
and  toilsome,  as  I  had  to  work  my  way  up 
the  watercourse  flat  on  my  stomach,  dragging 
the  rifle  beside  me.  At  last  I  reached  a  spot 
beyond  which  not  even  a  snake  could  crawl 
unnoticed.  In  front  was  a  low  bank,  a  couple 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES,  79 

of  feet  high,  crested  with  tufts  of  coarse  grass. 
Raising  my  head  very  cautiously  I  peered 
through  these  and  saw  the  prong-horn  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant.  At  the 
same  time  I  found  that  I  had  crawled  to  the 
edge  of  a  village  of  prairie  dogs,  which  had 
already  made  me  aware  of  their  presence  by 
their  shrill  yelping.  They  saw  me  at  once  : 
and  all  those  away  from  their  homes  scuttled 
towards  them,  and  dived  down  the  burrows, 
or  sat  on  the  mounds  at  the  entrances,  scold- 
ing convulsively  and  jerking  their  fat  little 
bodies  and  short  tails.  This  commotion  at 
once  attracted  the  attention  of  the  antelope. 
They  rose  forthwith,  and  immediately  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  black  muzzle  of  the  rifle 
which  I  was  gently  pushing  through  the  grass 
tufts.  The  fatal  curiosity  which  so  often  in 
this  species  offsets  wariness  and  sharp  sight, 
proved  my  friend ;  evidently  the  antelope 
could  not  quite  make  me  out  and  wished  to 
know  what  I  was.  They  moved  nervously  to 
and  fro,  striking  the  earth  with  their  fore 
hoofs,  and  now  and  then  uttering  a  sudden 
bleat.  At  last  the  big  buck  stood  still  broad- 
side to  me,  and  I  fired.  He  went  off  with  the 
others,  but  lagged  behind  as  they  passed  over 
the  hill  crest,  and  when  I  reached  it  I  saw 
him  standing,  not  very  far  off,  with  his  head 
down.  Then  he  walked  backwards  a  few 
steps,  fell  over  on  his  side,  and  died. 

As  he  was  a  big  buck  I  slung  him  across 
the  saddle,  and  started  for  camp  afoot,  leading 
the  horse.  However  my  hunt  was  not  over, 
for  while  still  a  mile  from  the  wagons,  going 
down  a  coulie  of  Dry  Creek,  a  yearling  prong- 


8o  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

buck  walked  over  the  divide  to  my  right  and 
stood  still  until  I  sent  a  bullet  into  its  chest ; 
so  that  I  made  my  appearance  in  camp  with 
three  antelope. 

I  spoke  above  of  the  sweet  singing  of  the 
western  meadow  lark  and  plains  skylark  ; 
neither  of  them  kin  to  the  true  skylark,  by  the 
way,  one  being  a  cousin  of  the  grakles  and 
hang-birds,  and  the  other  a  kind  of  pipit.  To 
me  both  of  these  birds  are  among  the  most 
attractive  singers  to  which  I  have  ever  lis- 
tened ;  but  with  all  bird-music  much  must  be 
allowed  for  the  surroundings  and  much  for 
the  mood,  and  the  keenness  of  sense,  of  the 
listener.  The  lilt  of  the  little  plains  skylark 
is  neither  very  powerful  nor  very  melodious ; 
but  it  is  sweet,  pure,  long-sustained,  with  a 
ring  of  courage  befitting  a  song  uttered  in 
highest  air. 

The  meadow  lark  is  a  singer  of  a  higher 
order,  deserving  to  rank  with  the  best.  Its 
song  has  length,  variety,  power  and  rich 
melody;  and  there  is  in  it  sometimes  a 
cadence  of  wild  sadness,  inexpressibly  touch- 
ing. Yet  I  cannot  say  that  either  song  would 
appeal  to  others  as  it  appeals  to  me  ;  for  to 
me  it  comes  forever  laden  with  a  hundred 
memories  and  associations  ;  with  the  sight  of 
dim  hills  reddening  in  the  dawn,  with  the 
breath  of  cool  morning  winds  blowing  across 
lonely  plains,  with  the  scent  of  flowers  on  the 
sunlit  prairie,  with  the  motion  of  fiery  horses, 
with  all  the  strong  thrill  of  eager  and  buoy- 
ant life.  I  doubt  if  any  man  can  judge  dis- 
passionately the  bird  songs  of  his  own 
country ;  he  cannot  disassociate  them  from 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES.  8 1 

the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  land  that  is  so 
dear  to  him. 

This  is  not  a  feeling  to  regret,  but  it  must 
be  taken  into  account  in  accepting  any  esti- 
mate of  bird  music — even  in  considering  the 
reputation  of  the  European  skylark  and 
nightingale.  To  both  of  these  birds  I  have 
often  listened  in  their  own  homes;  always 
with  pleasure  and  admiration,  but  always  with 
a  growing  belief  that  relatively  to  some  other 
birds  they  were  ranked  too  high.  They  are 
pre-eminently  birds  with  literary  associations ; 
most  people  take  their  opinions  of  them  at 
second-hand,  from  the  poets. 

No  one  can  help  liking  the  lark ;  it  is  such 
a  brave,  honest,  cheery  bird,  and  moreover 
its  song  is  uttered  in  the  air,  and  is  very  long- 
sustained.  But  it  is  by  no  means  a  musician 
of  the  first  rank.  The  nightingale  is  a  per- 
former of  a  very  different  and  far  higher 
order ;  yet  though  it  is  indeed  a  notable  and 
admirable  singer,  it  is  an  exaggeration  to  call 
it  unequalled.  In  melody,  and  above  all  in 
that  finer,  higher  melody  where  the  chords 
vibrate  with  the  touch  of  eternal  sorrow,  it 
cannot  rank  with  such  singers  as  the  wood 
thrush  and  hermit  thrush.  The  serene, 
ethereal  beauty  of  the  hermit's  song,  rising 
and  falling  through  the  still  evening,  under 
the  archways  of  hoary  mountain  forests  that 
have  endured  from  time  everlasting;  the 
golden,  leisurely  chiming  of  the  wood  thrush, 
sounding  on  June  afternoons,  stanza  by 
stanza,  through  sun-flecked  groves  of  tall 
hickories,  oaks,  and  chestnuts ;  with  these 
there  is  nothing  in  the  nightingale's  song  to 
6 


82  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

compare.  But  in  volume  and  continuity,  in 
tuneful,  voluble,  rapid  outpouring  and  ardor, 
above  all  in  skilful  and  intricate  variation  of 
theme,  its  song  far  surpasses  that  of  either  of 
the  thrushes.  In  all  these  respects  it  is  more 
just  to  compare  it  with  the  mocking-bird's, 
which,  as  a  rule,  likewise  falls  short  precisely 
on  those  points  where  the  songs  of  the  two 
thrushes  excel. 

The  mocking-bird  is  a  singer  that  has  suf- 
fered much  in  reputation  from  its  powers  of 
mimicry.  On  ordinary  occasions,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  daytime,  it  insists  on  playing  the 
harlequin.  But  when  free  in  its  own  favorite 
haunts  at  night  in  the  love  season  it  has  a 
song,  or  rather  songs,  which  are  not  only 
purely  original,  but  are  also  more  beautiful 
than  any  other  bird  music  whatsoever.  Once 
I  listened  to  a  mocking-bird  singing  the  live- 
long spring  night,  under  the  full  moon,  in  a 
magnolia  tree ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  shall 
ever  forget  its  song. 

It  was  on  the  plantation  of  Major  Camp- 
bell Brown,  near  Nashville,  in  the  beautiful, 
fertile  mid-Tennessee  country.  The  mocking- 
birds were  prime  favorites  on  the  place  ;  and 
were  given  full  scope  for  the  development, 
not  only  of  their  bold  friendliness  towards 
mankind,  but  also  of  that  marked  individual- 
ity and  originality  of  character  in  which  they 
so  far  surpass  every  other  bird  as  to  become 
the  most  interesting  of  all  feathered  folk. 
One  of  the  mockers,  which  lived  in  the  hedge 
bordering  the  garden,  was  constantly  engaged 
in  an  amusing  feud  with  an  honest  old  setter 
dog,  the  point  of  attack  being  the  tip  of  the 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES.  83 

dog's  tail.  For  some  reason  the  bird  seemed 
to  regard  any  hoisting  of  the  setter's  tail  as  a 
challenge  and  insult.  It  would  flutter  near 
the  dog  as  he  walked ;  the  old  setter  would 
become  interested  in  something  and  raise  his 
tail.  The  bird  would  promptly  fly  at  it  and 
peck  the  tip ;  whereupon  down  went  the  tail 
until  in  a  couple  of  minutes  the  old  fellow 
would  forget  himself,  and  the  scene  would  be 
repeated.  The  dog  usually  bore  the  assaults 
with  comic  resignation ;  and  the  mocker 
easily  avoided  any  momentary  outburst  of 
clumsy  resentment. 

On  the  evening  in  question  the  moon  was 
full.  My  host  kindly  assigned  me  a  room  of 
which  the  windows  opened  on  a  great  magno- 
lia tree,  where,  I  was  told,  a  mocking-bird 
sang  every  night  and  all  night  long.  I  went 
to  my  room  about  ten.  The  moonlight  was 
shining  in  through  the  open  window,  and  the 
mocking-bird  was  already  in  the  magnolia. 
The  great  tree  was  bathed  in  a  flood  of  shin- 
ing silver ;  I  could  see  each  twig,  and  mark 
every  action  of  the  singer,  who  was  pouring 
forth  such  a  rapture  of  ringing  melody  as  I 
have  never  listened  to  before  or  since. 
Sometimes  he  would  perch  motionless  for 
many  minutes,  his  body  quivering  and  thrill- 
ing with  the  outpour  of  music.  Then  he 
would  drop  softly  from  twig  to  twig,  until  the 
lowest  limb  was  reached,  when  he  would  rise, 
fluttering  and  leaping  through  the  branches, 
his  song  never  ceasing  for  an  instant,  until  he 
reached  the  summit  of  the  tree  and  launched 
into  the  warm,  scent-laden  air,  floating  in 
spirals,  with  outspread  wings,  until,  as  if 


84          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

spent,  he  sank  gently  back  into  the  tree  and 
down  through  the  branches,  while  his  song 
rose  into  an  ecstasy  of  ardor  and  passion. 
His  voice  rang  like  a  clarionet,  in  rich,  full 
tones,  and  his  execution  covered  the  widest 
possible  compass ;  theme  followed  theme,  a 
torrent  of  music,  a  swelling  tide  of  harmony, 
in  which  scarcely  any  two  bars  were  alike.  I 
stayed  till  midnight  listening  to  him  ;  he  was 
singing  when  I  went  to  sleep  ;  he  was  still 
singing  when  I  woke  a  couple  of  hours  later ; 
he  sang  through  the  livelong  night. 

There  are  many  singers  beside  the  meadow 
lark  and  little  skylark  in  the  plains  country ; 
that  brown  and  desolate  land,  once  the  home 
of  the 'thronging  buffalo,  still  haunted  by  the 
bands  of  the  prong-buck,  and  roamed  over  in 
ever  increasing  numbers  by  the  branded  herds 
of  the  ranchman.  In  the  brush  of  the  river 
bottoms  there  are  the  thrasher  and  song  spar- 
row ;  on  the  grassy  uplands  the  lark  finch, 
vesper  sparrow,  and  lark  bunting;  and  in  the 
rough  canyons  the  rock  wren,  with  its  ringing 
melody. 

Yet  in  certain  moods  a  man  cares  less  for 
even  the  loveliest  bird  songs  than  for  the 
wilder,  harsher,  stronger  sounds  of  the  wil- 
derness ;  the  guttural  booming  and  clucking  of 
the  prairie  fowl  and  the  great  sage  fowl  in 
spring ;  the  honking  of  gangs  of  wild  geese, 
as  they  fly  in  rapid  wedges ;  the  bark  of  an 
eagle,  wheeling  in  the  shadow  of  storm-scarred 
cliffs ;  or  the  far-off  clanging  of  many  sand- 
hill cranes,  soaring  high  overhead  in  circles 
which  cross  and  recross  at  an  incredible 
altitude.  Wilder  yet,  and  stranger,  are  the 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES.  85 

cries  of  the  great  four-footed  beasts;  the 
rhythmic  pealing  of  a  bull-elk's  challenge  ; 
and  that  most  sinister  and  mournful  sound, 
ever  ffaught  with  foreboding  of  murder  and 
rapine,  the  long-drawn  baying  of  the  gray  wolf. 

Indeed,  save  to  the  trained  ear  most  mere 
bird  songs  are  not  very  noticeable.  The 
ordinary  wilderness  dweller,  whether  hunter 
orcowboy,  scarcely  heeds  them ;  and  in  fact 
knows  but  little  of  the  smaller  birds.  If  a  bird 
has  some  conspicuous  peculiarity  of  look  or 
habit  he  will  notice  its  existence;  but  not 
otherwise.  He  knows  a  good  deal  about 
magpies,  whiskey  jacks,  or  water  ousels  ;  but 
nothing  whatever  concerning  the  thrushes, 
finches,  and  warblers. 

It  is  the  same  with  mammals.  The  prairie- 
dogs  he  cannot  help  noticing.  With  the  big 
pack-rats  also  he  is  well  acquainted ;  for  they 
are  handsome,  with  soft  gray  fur,  large  eyes, 
and  bushy  tails ;  and,  moreover,  no  one  can 
avoid  remarking  their  extraordinary  habit  of 
carrying  to  their  burrows  everything  bright, 
useless,  and  portable,  from  an  empty  cartridge 
case  to  a  skinning  knife.  But  he  knows 
nothing  of  mice,  shrews,  pocket  gophers,  or 
weasels  ;  and  but  little  even  of  some  larger 
•mammals  with  very  marked  characteristics. 
Thus  I  have  met  but  one  or  two  plainsmen 
who  knew  anything  of  the  curious  plains  fer- 
ret, that  rather  rare  weasel-like  animal,  which 
plays  the  same  part  on  the  plains  that  the 
mink  does  by  the  edges  of  all  our  streams  and 
brooks,  and  the  tree-loving  sable  in  the  cold 
northern  forests.  The  ferret  makes  its  home 
in  burrows,  and  by  preference  goes  abroad  at 


86  THE   WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

dawn  and  dusk,  but  sometimes  even  at  mid- 
day. It  is  as  blood-thirsty  as  the  mink  itself, 
and  its  life  is  one  long  ramble  for  prey, 
gophers,  prairie-dogs,  sage  rabbits,  jack-rab- 
bits, snakes,  and  every  kind  of  ground  bird 
furnishing  its  food.  I  have  known  one  to 
fairly  depopulate  a  prairie-dog  town,  it  being 
the  arch  foe  of  these  little  rodents,  because  of 
its  insatiable  blood  lust  and  its  capacity  to 
follow  them  into  their  burrows.  Once  I  found 
the  bloody  body  and  broken  eggs  of  a  poor 
prairie-hen  which  a  ferret  had  evidently  sur- 
prised on  her  nest.  Another  time  one  of  my 
men  was  eye-witness  to  a  more  remarkable 
instance  of  the  little  animal's  blood-thirsty 
ferocity.  He  was  riding  the  range,  and  being 
attracted  by  a  slight  commotion  in  a  clump  of 
grass,  he  turned  his  horse  thither  to  look,  and 
to  his  astonishment  found  an  antelope  fawn  at 
the  last  gasp,  but  still  feebly  struggling,  in 
the  grasp  of  a  ferret,  which  had  throttled  it  and 
was  sucking  its  blood  with  hideous  greediness. 
He  avenged  the  murdered  innocent  by  a 
dexterous  blow  with  the  knotted  end  of  his 
lariat. 

That  mighty  bird  of  rapine,  the  war  eagle, 
which  on  the  great  plains  and  among  the 
Rockies  supplants  the  bald-headed  eagle  of 
better-watered  regions,  is  another  dangerous 
foe  of  the  young  antelope.  It  is  even  said 
that  under  exceptional  circumstances  eagles 
will  assail  a  full-grown  prong-horn  ;  and  a 
neighboring  ranchman  informs  me  that  he  was 
once  an  eye-witness  to  such  an  attack.  It  was 
a  bleak  day  in  the  late  winter,  and  he  was 
riding  home  across  a  wide  dreary  plateau, 


ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES.  87 

when  he  saw  two  eagles  worrying  and  pounc- 
ing on  a  prong-buck — seemingly  a  yearling. 
It  made  a  gallant  fight.  The  eagles  hovered 
over  it  with  spread  wings,  now  and  then 
swooping  down,  their  talons  out-thrust,  to 
strike  at  the  head,  or  to  try  to  settle  on  the 
loins.  The  antelope  reared  and  struck  with 
hoofs  and  horns  like  a  goat ;  but  its  strength 
was  failing  rapidly,  and  doubtless  it  would 
have  succumbed  in  the  end  had  not  the 
approach  of  the  ranchman  driven  off  the 
marauders. 

I  have  likewise  heard  stories  of  eagles  at- 
tacking badgers,  foxes,  bob-cats,  and  coyotes  ; 
but  I  am  inclined  to  think  all  such  cases  ex- 
ceptional. I  have  never  myself  seen  an  eagle 
assail  anything  bigger  than  a  fawn,  lamb,  kid, 
or  jack-rabbit.  It  also  swoops  at  geese,  sage 
fowl,  and  prairie  fowl.  On  one  occasion  while 
riding  over  the  range  I  witnessed  an  attack  on 
a  jack-rabbit.  The  eagle  was  soaring  over- 
head, and  espied  the  jack  while  the  latter  was 
crouched  motionless.  Instantly  the  great  bird 
rushed  down  through  the  humming  air,  with 
closed  wings ;  checked  itself  when  some  forty 
yards  above  the  jack,  hovered  for  a  moment, 
and  again  fell  like  a  bolt.  Away  went  long- 
ears,  running  as  only  a  frightened  jack  can ; 
and  after  him  the  eagle,  not  with  the  arrowy 
rush  of  its  descent  from  high  air,  but  with 
eager,  hurried  flapping.  In  a  short  time  it 
had  nearly  overtaken  the  fugitive,  when  the 
latter  dodged  sharply  to  one  side,  and  the 
eagle  overshot  it  precisely  as  a  grayhound 
would  have  done,  stopping  itself  by  a  power- 
ful, setting  motion  of  the  great  pinions. 


88  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

Twice  this  manoeuvre  was  repeated  ;  then  the 
eagle  made  a  quick  rush,  caught  and  over- 
threw the  quarry  before  it  could  turn,  and  in 
another  moment  was  sitting  triumphant  on  the 
quivering  body,  the  crooked  talons  driven  deep 
into  the  soft,  furry  sides. 

Once  while  hunting  mountain  sheep  in  the 
Bad  Lands  I  killed  an  eagle  on  the  wing  with 
the  rifle.  I  was  walking  beneath  a  cliff  of 
gray  clay,  when  the  eagle  sailed  into  view  over 
the  crest.  As  soon  as  he  saw  me  he  threw  his 
wings  aback,  and  for  a  moment  before  wheel- 
ing poised  motionless,  offering  a  nearly  station- 
ary target;  so  that  my  bullet  grazed  his 
shoulder,  and  down  he  came  through  the  air, 
tumbling  over  and  over.  As  he  struck  the 
ground  he  threw  himself  on  his  back,  and 
fought  against  his  death  with  the  undaunted 
courage  proper  to  his  brave  and  cruel  nature. 

Indians  greatly  prize  the  feathers  of  this 
eagle.  With  them  they  make  their  striking 
and  beautiful  war  bonnets,  and  bedeck  the 
manes  and  tails  of  their  spirited  war  ponies. 
Every  year  the  Grosventres  and  Mandans  from 
the  Big  Missouri  come  to  the  neighborhood 
of  my  ranch  to  hunt.  Though  not  good  marks- 
men they  kill  many  whitetail  deer,  driving  the 
bottoms  for  them  in  bands,  on  horseback  ; 
and  they  catch  many  eagles.  Sometimes  they 
take  these  alive  by  exposing  a  bait  near  which 
a  hole  is  dug,  where  one  of  them  lies  hidden 
for  days,  with  Indian  patience,  until  an  eagle 
lights  on  the  bait  and  is  noosed. 

Even  eagles  are  far  less  dangerous  enemies 
to  antelope  than  are  wolves  and  coyotes. 
These  beasts  are  always  prowling  round  the 


ON  THE  CA  TTLE  RANGES.  89 

bands  to  snap  up  the  sick  or  unwary  ;  and  in 
spring  they  revel  in  carnage  of  the  kids  and 
fawns.  They  are  not  swift  enough  to  over- 
take the  grown  animals  by  sheer  speed ;  but 
they  are  superior  in  endurance,  and  especially 
in  winter,  often  run  them  down  in  fair  chase. 
A  prong-buck  is  a  plucky  little  beast,  and 
when  cornered  it  often  makes  a  gallant, 
though  not  a  very  effectual,  fight. 


90  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK  ;    FROST,  FIRE,  AND 
THIRST. 

AS  with  all  other  American  game,  man  is  a 
worse  foe  to  the  prong-horns  than  all 
their  brute  enemies  combined.  They  hold 
their  own  much  better  than  the  bigger  game  ; 
on  the  whole  even  better  than  the  blacktail ; 
but  their  numbers  have  been  wofully  thinned, 
and  in  many  places  they  have  been  completely 
exterminated.  The  most  exciting  method  of 
chasing  them  is  on  horseback  with  gray- 
hounds  ;  but  they  are  usually  killed  with  the 
rifle.  Owing  to  the  open  nature  of  the  ground 
they  frequent  the  shots  must  generally  be 
taken  at  long  range  ;  hence  this  kind  of  hunt- 
ing is  pre-eminently  that  needing  judgment  of 
distance  and  skill  in  the  use  of  the  long- 
range  rifle  at  stationary  objects.  On  the 
other  hand  the  antelope  are  easily  seen,  mak- 
ing no  effort  to  escape  observation,  as  deer 
do,  and  are  so  curious  that  in  very  wild  dis- 
tricts to  this  day  they  can  sometimes  be  tolled 
within  rifle  shot  by  the  judicious  waving  of  a 
red  flag.  In  consequence,  a  good  many  very 
long,  but  tempting,  shots  can  be  obtained. 
More  cartridges  are  used,  relatively  to  the 
amount  of  game  killed,  on  antelope,  than  in 
any  other  hunting. 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.  91 

Often  I  have  killed  prong-bucks  while 
riding  between  the  outlying  line  camps,  which 
are  usually  stationed  a  dozen  miles  or  so  back 
from  the  river,  where  the  Bad  Lands  melt 
into  the  prairie.  In  continually  trying  long 
shots,  of  course  one  occasionally  makes  a 
remarkable  hit.  Once  I  remember  while 
riding  down  a  broad,  shallow  coulie  with  two 
of  my  cow-hands — Seawell  and  Dow,  both 
keen  hunters  and  among  the  staunchest  friends 
I  have  ever  had — rousing  a  band  of  antelope 
which  stood  irresolute  at  about  a  hundred 
yards  until  I  killed  one.  Then  they  dashed 
off,  and  I  missed  one  shot,  but  with  my  next, 
to  my  own  utter  astonishment,  killed  the  last 
of  the  band,  a  big  buck,  just  as  he  topped  a 
rise  four  hundred  yards  away.  To  offset 
such  shots  I  have  occasionally  made  an  unac- 
countable miss.  Once  I  was  hunting  with 
the  same  two  men,  on  a  rainy  day,  when  we 
came  on  a  bunch  of  antelope  some  seventy 
yards  off,  lying  down  jn  the  side  of  a  coulie, 
to  escape  the  storm.  They  huddled  together 
a  moment  to  gaze,  and,  with  stiffened  fingers 
I  took  a  shot,  my  yellow  oilskin  slicker  flap- 
ping around  me  in  the  wind  and  rain.  Down 
went  one  buck,  and  away  went  the  others. 
One  of  my  men  walked  up  to  the  fallen  beast, 
bent  over  it,  and  then  asked,  "  Where  did 
you  aim  ?  "  Not  reassured  by  the  question,  I 
answered  doubtfully,  "  Behind  the  shoulder"; 
whereat  he  remarked  drily,  "  Well,  you  hit  it 
in  the  eye ! "  I  never  did  know  whether  I 
killed  the  antelope  I  aimed  at  or  another. 
Yet  that  same  day  I  killed  three  more  bucks 
at  decidedly  long  shots ;  at  the  time  we  lacked 


92  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

meat  at  the  ranch,  and  were  out  to  make  a 
good  killing. 

Besides  their  brute  and  human  foes,  the 
prong-horn  must  also  fear  the  elements,  and 
especially  the  snows  of  winter.  On  the  north- 
ern plains  the  cold  weather  is  of  polar  severity, 
and  turns  the  green,  grassy  prairies  of  mid- 
summer into  ironbound  wastes.  The  blizzards 
whirl  and  sweep  across  them  with  a  shrieking 
fury  which  few  living  things  may  face.  The 
snow  is  like  fine  ice  dust,  and  the  white  waves 
glide  across  the  grass  with  a  stealthy,  crawling 
motion  which  has  in  it  something  sinister  and 
cruel.  Accordingly,  as  the  bright  fall  weather 
passes,  and  the  dreary  winter  draws  nigh, 
when  the  days  shorten,  and  the  nights  seem 
interminable,  and  gray  storms  lower  above 
the  gray  horizon,  the  antelope  gather  in  bands 
and  seek  sheltered  places,  where  they  may 
abide  through  the  winter-time  of  famine  and 
cold  and  deep  snow,  Some  of  these  bands 
travel  for  many  hundred  miles,  going  and 
returning  over  the  same  routes,  swimming 
rivers,  crossing  prairies,  and  threading  their 
way  through  steep  defiles.  Such  bands  make 
their  winter  home  in  places  like  the  Black 
Hills,  or  similar  mountainous  regions,  where 
the  shelter  and  feed  are  good,  and  where  in 
consequence  antelope  have  wintered  in  count- 
less thousands  for  untold  generations.  Other 
bands  do  not  travel  for  any  very  great  dis- 
tance, but  seek  some  sheltered  grassy  table- 
land in  the  Bad  Lands,  or  some  well-shielded 
valley,  where  their  instinct  and  experience 
teach  them  that  the  snow  does  not  lie  deep  in 
winter.  Once  having  chosen  such  a  place 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.          93 

they  stand  much  persecution  before  leav- 
ing it. 

One  December,  an  old  hunter  whom  I  knew 
told  me  that  such  a  band  was  wintering  a  few 
miles  from  a  camp  where  two  line-riders  of 
the  W  Bar  brand  were  stationed;  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  ride  thither  and  kill  a  couple. 
The  line  camp  was  twenty  miles  from  my 
ranch;  the  shack  in  which  the  old  hunter 
lived  was  midway  between,  and  I  had  to  stop 
there  to  find  out  the  exact  lay  of  the  land. 

At  dawn,  before  our  early  breakfast,  I  sad- 
dled a  tough,  shaggy  sorrel  horse ;  hastening 
in-doors  as  soon  as  the  job  was  over,  to  warm 
my  numbed  fingers.  After  breakfast  I  started, 
muffled  in  my  wolf-skin  coat,  with  beaver-fur 
cap,  gloves,  and  snaps,  and  great  felt  over- 
shoes. The  windless  air  was  bitter  cold,  the 
thermometer  showing  well  below  zero.  Snow 
lay  on  the  ground,  leaving  bare  patches  here 
and  there,  but  drifted  deep  in  the  hollows. 
Under  the  steel-blue  heavens  the  atmosphere 
had  a  peculiar  glint  as  if  filled  with  myriads 
of  tiny  crystals.  As  I  crossed  the  frozen 
river,  immediately  in  front  of  the  ranch  house, 
the  strangely  carved  tops  of  the  bluffs  were 
reddening  palely  in  the  winter  sunrise.  Prai- 
rie fowl  were  perched  in  the  bare  cottonwoods 
along  the  river  brink,  showing  large  in  the 
leafless  branches  ;  they  called  and  clucked  to 
one  another. 

Where  the  ground  was  level  and  the  snow 
not  too  deep  I  loped,  and  before  noon  I 
reached  the  sheltered  coulie  where,  with  long 
poles  and  bark,  the  hunter  had  built  his  tepee- 
wigwam,  as  eastern  woodsmen  would  have 


94 


THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


called  it.  It  stood  in  a  loose  grove  of  elms 
and  box-alders  ;  from  the  branches  of  the 
nearest  trees  hung  saddles  of  frozen  venison. 
The  smoke  rising  from  the  funnel-shaped  top 
of  the  tepee  showed  that  there  was  more  fire 
than  usual  within  ;  it  is  easy  to  keep  a  good 
tepee  warm,  though  it  is  so  smoky  that  no  one 
therein  can  stand  upright.  As  I  drew  rein 
the  skin  door  was  pushed  aside,  and  the  hard 
old  face  and  dried,  battered  body  of  the  hunter 
appeared.  He  greeted  me  with  a  surly  nod, 
and  a  brief  request  to  "  light  and  hev  some- 
thin'  to  eat " — the  invariable  proffer  of  hospi- 
tality on  the  plains.  He  wore  a  greasy  buck- 
shin  shirt  or  tunic,  and  an  odd  cap  of  badger 
skin,  from  beneath  which  strayed  his  tangled 
hair;  age,  rheumatism,  and  the  many  ac- 
cidents and  incredible  fatigue,  hardship,  and 
exposure  of  his  past  life  had  crippled  him, 
yet  he  still  possessed  great  power  of  endur- 
ance, and  in  his  seamed  weather-scarred  face 
his  eyes  burned  fierce  and  piercing  as  a 
hawk's.  Ever  since  early  manhood  he  had 
wandered  over  the  plains,  hunting  and  trap- 
ping ;  he  had  waged  savage  private  war 
against  half  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  north ; 
and  he  had  wedded  wives  in  each  of  the  tribes 
of  the  other  half.  A  few  years  before  this 
time  the  great  buffalo  herds  had  vanished, 
and  the  once  swarming  beaver  had  shared  the 
same  fate  •,  the  innumerable  horses  and  horned 
stock  of  the  cattlemen,  and  the  daring  rough 
riders  of  the  ranches,  had  supplanted  alike 
the  game  and  the  red  and  white  wanderers 
who  had  followed  it  with  such  fierce  rivalry. 
When  the  change  took  place  the  old  fellow, 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.  95 

with  failing  bodily  powers,  found  his  life-work 
over.  He  had  little  taste  for  the  career  of  the 
desperado,  horse-thief,  highwayman,  and  man- 
killer,  which  not  a  few  of  the  old  buffalo 
hunters  adopted  when  their  legitimate  occu- 
pation was  gone ;  he  scorned  still  more  the 
life  of  vicious  and  idle  semi-criminality  led  by 
others  of  his  former  companions  who  were  of 
weaker  mould.  Yet  he  could  not  do  regular 
work.  His  existence  had  been  one  of  excite- 
ment, adventure,  and  restless  roaming,  when 
it  was  not  passed  in  lazy  ease  ;  his  times  of 
toil  and  peril  varied  by  fits  of  brutal  revelry. 
He  had  no  kin,  no  ties  of  any  kind.  He 
would  accept  no  help,  for  his  wants  were  very 
few,  and  he  was  utterly  self-reliant.  He  got 
meat,  clothing,  and  bedding  from  the  antelope 
and  deer  he  killed  ;  the  spare  hides  and  ven- 
ison he  bartered  for  what  little  else  he  needed. 
So  he  built  him  his  tepee  in  one  of  the  most 
secluded  parts  of  the  Bad  Lands,  where  he 
led  the  life  of  a  solitary  hunter,  awaiting  in 
grim  loneliness  the  death  which  he  knew  to  be 
near  at  hand. 

I  unsaddled  and  picketed  my  horse,  and 
followed  the  old  hunter  into  his  smoky  tepee ; 
sat  down  on  the  pile  of  worn  buffalo  robes 
which  formed  his  bedding,  and  waited  in 
silence  while  he  fried  some  deer  meat,  and 
boiled  some  coffee — he  was  out  of  flour.  As 
I  ate,  he  gradually  unbent  and  talked  quite 
freely,  and  before  I  left  he  told  me  exactly 
where  to  find  the  band,  which  he  assured  me 
was  located  for  the  winter,  and  would  not  leave 
unless  much  harried. 

After  a  couple  of  hours'  rest  I  again  started, 

3—4 


96          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

and  pushed  out  to  the  end  of  the  Bad  Lands. 
Here,  as  there  had  been  no  wind,  I  knew  I 
should  find  in  the  snow  the  tracks  of  one  of 
the  riders  from  the  line  camp,  whose  beat  lay 
along  the  edge  of  the  prairie  for  some  eight 
miles,  until  it  met  the  beat  of  a  rider  from  the 
line  camp  next  above.  As  nightfall  came  on 
it  grew  even  colder;  long  icicles  hung  from 
the  lips  of  my  horse  ;  and  I  shivered  slightly 
in  my  fur  coat.  I  had  reckoned  the  distance 
ill,  and  it  was  dusk  when  I  struck  the  trail ; 
but  my  horse  at  once  turned  along  it  of  his 
own  accord  and  began  to  lope.  Half  an  hour 
later  I  saw  through  the  dark  what  looked  like 
a  spark  on  the  side  of  a  hill.  Toward  this 
my  horse  turned ;  and  in  another  moment  a 
whinneying  from  in  front  showed  I  was  near 
the  camp.  The  light  was  shining  through  a 
small  window,  the  camp  itself  being  a  dugout 
with  a  log  roof  and  front — a  kind  of  frontier 
building  always  warm  in  winter.  After  turn- 
ing my  horse  into  the  rough  log  stable  with 
the  horses  of  the  two  cowboys,  I  joined  the 
latter  at  supper  inside  the  dugout ;  being  re- 
ceived of  course  with  hearty  cordiality.  After 
the  intense  cold  outside  the  warmth  within 
was  almost  oppressive,  for  the  fire  was  roaring 
in  the  big  stone  fireplace.  The  bunks  were 
broad;  my  two  friends  turned  into  one,  and  I 
was  given  the  other,  with  plenty  of  bedding ; 
so  that  my  sleep  was  sound. 

We  had  breakfasted  and  saddled  our  horses 
and  were  off  by  dawn  next  morning.  My 
companions,  muffled  in  furs,  started  in  op- 
posite directions  to  ride  their  lonely  beats, 
while  I  steered  for  my  hunting-ground.  It 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.         97 

was  a  lowering  and  gloomy  day ;  at  sunrise 
pale,  lurid  sundogs  hung  in  the  glimmering 
mist ;  gusts  of  wind  moaned  through  the  ra- 
vines. 

At  last  I  reached  a  row  of  bleak  hills,  and 
from  a  ridge  looked  cautiously  down  on  the 
chain  of  plateaus,  where  I  had  been  told  I 
should  see  the  antelope.  Sure  enough,  there 
they  were,  to  the  number  of  several  hundred, 
scattered  over  the  level  snow-streaked  surface 
of  the  nearest  and  largest  plateau,  greedily 
cropping  the  thick,  short  grass.  Leaving  my 
horse  tied  in  a  hollow  I  speedily  stalked  up  a 
coulie  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  near- 
est band  and  killed  a  good  buck.  Instantly 
all  the  antelope  in  sight  ran  together  into  a 
thick  mass  and  raced  away  from  me,  until 
they  went  over  the  opposite  edge  of  the  pla- 
teau ;  but  almost  as  soon  as  they  did  so  they 
were  stopped  by  deep  drifts  of  powdered  snow, 
and  came  back  to  the  summit  of  the  table- 
land. They  then  circled  round  the  edge  at  a 
gallop,  and  finally  broke  madly  by  me,  jos- 
tling one  another  in  their  frantic  haste  and 
crossed  by  a  small  ridge  into  the  next  plateau 
beyond  ;  as  they  went  by  I  shot  a  yearling. 

I  now  had  all  the  venison  I  wished,  and 
would  shoot  no  more,  but  I  was  curious  to 
see  how  the  antelope  would  act,  and  so  walked 
after  them.  They  ran  about  half  a  mile,  and 
then  the  whole  herd,  of  several  hundred  indi- 
viduals, wheeled  into  line  fronting  me,  like  so 
many  cavalry,  and  stood  motionless,  the  white 
and  brown  bands  on  their  necks  looking  like 
the  facings  on  a  uniform.  As  I  walked  near 
they  again  broke  and  rushed  to  the  end  of  the 


98  THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

valley.  Evidently  they  feared  to  leave  the 
flats  for  the  broken  country  beyond,  where 
the  rugged  hills  were  riven  by  gorges,  in  some 
of  which  snow  lay  deep  even  thus  early  in  the 
season.  Accordingly,  after  galloping  a  couple 
of  times  round  the  valley,  they  once  more 
broke  by  me,  at  short  range,  and  tore  back 
along  the  plateaus  to  that  on  which  I  had  first 
found  them.  Their  evident  and  extreme  re- 
luctance to  venture  into  the  broken  country 
round  about  made  me  readily  understand  the 
tales  I  had  heard  of  game  butchers  killing 
over  a  hundred  individuals  at  a  time  out  of  a 
herd  so  situated. 

I  walked  back  to  my  game,  dressed  it,  and 
lashed  the  saddles  and  hams  behind  me  on 
my  horse ;  I  had  chosen  old  Sorrel  Joe  for  the 
trip  because  he  was  strong,  tough,  and  quiet. 
Then  I  started  for  the  ranch,  keeping  to  the 
prairie  as  long  as  I  could,  because  there  the 
going  was  easier;  sometimes  I  rode,  some- 
times I  ran  on  foot  leading  Sorrel  Joe. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  as  I  rode  over  a  roll 
in  the  prairie  I  saw  ahead  of  me  a  sight  very 
unusual  at  that  season  ;  a  small  emigrant  train 
going  westward.  There  were  three  white- 
topped  prairie  schooners,  containing  the 
household  goods,  the  tow-headed  children, 
and  the  hard-faced,  bony  women;  the  tired 
horses  were  straining  wearily  in  the  traces  ; 
the  bearded,  moody  men  walked  alongside. 
They  had  been  belated  by  sickness,  and  the 
others  of  their  company  had  gone  ahead  to 
take  up  claims  along  the  Yellowstone  ;  now 
they  themselves  were  pushing  forward  in 
order  to  reach  the  holdings  of  their  friends 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK:.         99 

before  the  first  deep  snows  stopped  all  travel. 
They  had  no  time  to  halt ;  for  there  were  still 
two  or  three  miles  to  go  that  evening  before 
they  could  find  a  sheltered  resting-place  with 
fuel,  grass,  and  water.  A  little  while  after 
passing  them  I  turned  in  the  saddle  and 
looked  back.  The  lonely  little  train  stood 
out  sharply  on  the  sky-line,  the  wagons  loom- 
ing black  against  the  cold  red  west  as  they 
toiled  steadily  onward  across  the  snowy  plain. 

Night  soon  fell ;  but  I  cared  little,  for  I  was 
on  ground  I  knew.  The  old  horse  threaded 
his  way  at  a  lope  along  the  familiar  game 
trails  and  cattle  paths ;  in  a  couple  of  hours  I 
caught  the  gleam  from  the  firelit  windows  of 
the  ranch  house.  No  man  who,  for  his  good- 
fortune,  has  at  times  in  his  life  endured  toil 
and  hardship,  ever  fails  to  appreciate  the 
strong  elemental  pleasures  of  rest  after  labor, 
food  after  hunger,  warmth  and  shelter  after 
bitter  cold. 

So  much  for  the  winter  hunting.  But  in 
the  fall,  when  the  grass  is  dry  as  tinder,  the 
antelope  hunter,  like  other  plainsmen,  must 
sometimes  face  fire  instead  of  frost.  Fire  is 
one  of  the  most  dreaded  enemies  of  the 
ranchmen  on  the  cattle  ranges ;  and  fighting 
a  big  prairie  fire  is  a  work  of  extraordinary 
labor,  and  sometimes  of  danger.  The  line  of 
flame,  especially  when  seen  at  night,  undulat- 
ing like  a  serpent,  is  very  beautiful ;  though 
it  lacks  the  terror  and  grandeur  of  the  great 
forest  fires. 

One  October,  Ferguson  and  I,  with  one  of 
the  cow-hands,  and  a  friend  from  the  East, 
took  the  wagon  for  an  antelope  hunt  in  the 


100        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

broken  country  between  the  Little  Missouri 
and  the  Beaver.  The  cowboy  drove  the 
wagon  to  a  small  spring,  near  some  buttes 
which  are  well  distinguished  by  a  number  of 
fossil  tree-stumps ;  while  the  rest  of  us,  who 
were  mounted  on  good  horses,  made  a  circle 
after  antelope.  We  found  none,  and  rode  on 
to  camp,  reaching  it  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon.  We  had  noticed  several  columns 
of  smoke  in  the  southeast,  showing  that 
prairie  fires  were  under  way ;  but  we  thought 
that  they  were  too  far  off  to  endanger  our 
camp,  and  accordingly  unsaddled  our  horses 
and  sat  down  to  a  dinner  of  bread,  beans,  and 
coffee.  Before  we  were  through  the  smoke 
began  to  pour  over  a  ridge  a  mile  distant  in 
such  quantities  that  we  ran  thither  with  our 
slickers,  hoping  to  find  some  stretch  of  broken 
ground  where  the  grass  was  sparse,  and  where 
we  could  fight  the  fire  with  effect.  Our  hopes 
were  vain.  Before  we  reached  the  ridge  the 
fire  came  over  its  crest,  and  ran  down  in  a 
long  tongue  between  two  scoria  buttes.  Here 
the  grass  was  quite  short  and  thin,  and  we 
did  our  best  to  beat  out  the  flames ;  but  they 
gradually  gained  on  us,  and  as  they  reached 
the  thicker  grass  lower  down  the  slope,  they 
began  to  roar  and  dart  forward  in  a  way  that 
bade  us  pay  heed  to  our  own  safety.  Finally 
they  reached  a  winding  line  of  brushwood  in 
the  bottom  of  the  coulie  ;  and  as  this  burst 
into  a  leaping  blaze  we  saw  it  was  high  time 
to  look  to  the  safety  of  our  camp,  and  ran 
back  to  it  at  top  speed.  Ferguson,  who  had 
been  foremost  in  fighting  the  fire,  was  already 
scorched  and  blackened. 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        101 

We  were  camped  on  the  wagon  trail  which 
leads  along  the  divide  almost  due  south  to 
Sentinel  Butte.  The  line  of  fire  was  fanned 
by  a  southeasterly  breeze,  and  was  therefore 
advancing  diagonally  to  the  divide.  If  we 
could  drive  the  wagon  southward  on  the  trail 
in  time  to  get  it  past  the  fire  before  the  latter 
reached  the  divide,  we  would  be  to  windward 
of  the  flames,  and  therefore  in  safety.  Accord- 
ingly, while  the  others  were  hastily  harness- 
ing the  team,  and  tossing  the  bedding  and 
provisions  into  the  wagon,  I  threw  the  saddle 
on  my  horse,  and  galloped  down  the  trail,  to 
see  if  there  was  yet  time  to  adopt  this  expedi- 
ent. I  soon  found  that  there  was  not.  Half 
a  mile  from  camp  the  trail  dipped  into  a  deep 
coulie,  where  fair-sized  trees  and  dense  under- 
growth made  a  long  winding  row  of  brush  and 
timber.  The  trail  led  right  under  the  trees 
at  the  upper  end  of  this  coulie.  As  I  galloped 
by  I  saw  that  the  fire  had  struck  the  trees  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  below  me ;  in  the  dried  tim- 
ber it  instantly  sprang  aloft  like  a  giant,  and 
roared  in  a  thunderous  monotone  as  it  swept 
up  the  coulie.  I  galloped  to  the  hill  ridge 
ahead,  saw  that  the  fire  line  had  already 
reached  the  divide,  and  turned  my  horse 
sharp  on  his  haunches.  As  I  again  passed 
under  the  trees,  the  fire,  running  like  a  race- 
horse in  the  brush,  had  reached  the  road ;  its 
breath  was  hot  in  my  face  ;  tongues  of  quiver- 
ing flame  leaped  over  my  head  and  kindled 
the  grass  on  the  hillside  fifty  yards  away. 

When  I  got  back  to  camp  Ferguson  had 
taken  measures  for  the  safety  of  the  wagon. 
He  had  moved  it  across  the  coulie,  which  at 


102        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

this  point  had  a  wet  bottom,  making  a  bar  to 
the  progress  of  the  flames  until  they  had 
time  to  work  across  lower  down.  Meanwhile 
we  fought  to  keep  the  fire  from  entering  the 
the  well-grassed  space  on  the  hither  side  of 
the  coulie,  between  it  and  a  row  of  scoria 
buttes.  Favored  by  a  streak  of  clay  ground, 
where  the  grass  was  sparse,  we  succeeded  in 
beating  out  the  flame  as  it  reached  this  clay 
streak,  and  again  beating  it  out  when  it  ran 
round  the  buttes  and  began  to  back  up  to- 
wards up  against  the  wind.  Then  we  re- 
crossed  the  coulie  with  the  wagon,  before  the 
fire  swept  up  the  farther  side  ;  and  so,  when 
the  flames  passed  by,  they  left  us  camped  on 
a  green  oasis  in  the  midst  of  a  charred,  smok- 
ing desert.  We  thus  saved  some  good  graz- 
ing for  our  horses. 

But  our  fight  with  the  fire  had  only  begun. 
No  stockman  will  see  a  fire  waste  the  range 
and  destroy  the  winter  feed  of  the  stock  with- 
out spending  every  ounce  of  his  strength  in 
the  effort  to  put  a  stop  to  its  ravages — even 
when,  as  in"  our  case,  the  force  of  men  and 
horses  at  hand  is  so  small  as  to  offer  only  the 
very  slenderest  hope  of  success. 

We  set  about  the  task  in  the  way  custom- 
ary in  the  cattle  country.  It  is  impossible 
for  any  but  a  very  large  force  to  make  head 
against  a  prairie  fire  while  there  is  any  wind  ; 
but  the  wind  usually  fails  after  nightfall,  and 
accordingly  the  main  fight  is  generally  waged 
during  the  hours  of  darkness. 

Before  dark  we  drove  to  camp  and  shot  a 
stray  steer,  and  then  split  its  carcass  in  two 
lengthwise  with  an  axe.  After  sundown  the 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        103 

wind  lulled  ;  and  we  started  towards  the  line 
of  fire,  which  was  working  across  a  row  of 
broken  grassy  hills,  three  quarters  of  a  mile 
distant.  Two  of  us  were  on  horseback,  drag- 
ging a  half  carcass,  bloody  side  down,  by 
means  of  ropes  leading  from  our  saddle-horns 
to  the  fore  and  hind  legs  ;  the  other  two  fol- 
lowed on  foot  with  slickers  and  wet  saddle 
blankets.  There  was  a  reddish  glow  in  the 
night  air,  and  the  waving,  bending  lines  of 
flame  showed  in  great  bright  curves  against 
the  hillside  ahead  of  us. 

When  we  reached  them,  we  found  the  fire 
burning  in  a  long,  continuous  line.  It  was 
not  making  rapid  headway,  for  the  air  was 
still,  and  the  flames  stood  upright,  two  or 
three  feet  high.  Lengthening  the  ropes,  one 
of  us  spurred  his  horse  across  the  fire  line 
and  then,  wheeling,  we  dragged  the  carcass 
along  it ;  one  horseman  being  on  the  burnt 
ground,  and  one  on  the  unburnt  grass,  while 
the  body  of  the  steer  lay  lengthwise  across 
the  line.  The  weight  and  the  blood  smothered 
the  fire  as  we  twitched  the  carcass  over  the 
burning  grass;  and  the  two  men  following  be- 
hind with,  their  blankets  and  slickers  readily 
beat  out  any  isolated  tufts  of  flame. 

The  fire  made  the  horses  wild,  and  it  was 
not  always  easy  to  manage  both  them  and  the 
ropes,  so  as  to  keep  the  carcass  true  on  the 
line.  Sometimes  there  would  be  a  slight  puff 
of  wind,  and  then  the  man  on  the  grass  side 
of  the  line  ran  the  risk  of  a  scorching.  We 
were  blackened  with  smoke,  and  the  taut 
ropes  hurt  our  thighs ;  while  at  times  the 
plunging  horses  tried  to  buck  or  bolt.  It 

3-4  » 


104        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

was  worse  when  we  came  to  some  deep  gully 
or  ravine,  breaking  the  line  of  fire.  Into  this 
we  of  course  had  to  plunge,  so  as  to  get  across 
to  the  fire  on  the  other  side.  After  the 
glare  of  the  flame  the  blackness  of  the  ravine 
was  Stygian  ;  we  could  see  nothing,  and  simply 
spurred  our  horses  into  it  anywhere,  taking 
our  chances.  Down  we  would  go,  stumbling, 
sliding,  and  pitching,  over  cut  banks  and  into 
holes  and  bushes,  while  the  carcass  bounded 
behind,  now  catching  on  a  stump,  and  now 
fetching  loose  with  a  "  pluck  "  that  brought  it 
full  on  the  horses'  haunches,  driving  them 
nearly  crazy  with  fright.  The  pull  up  the 
opposite  bank  was,  if  anything,  worse. 

By  midnight  the  half  carcass  was  worn 
through  ;  but  we  had  stifled  the  fire  in  the  com- 
paratively level  country  to  the  eastwards.  Back 
we  went  to  camp,  drank  huge  draughts  of 
muddy  water,  devoured  roast  ox-ribs,  and 
dragged  out  the  other  half  carcass  to  fight 
the  fire  on  the  west.  But  after  hours  of 
wearing  labor  we  found  ourselves  altogether 
baffled  by  the  exceeding  roughness  of  the 
ground.  There  was  some  little  risk  to  us  who 
were  on  horseback,  dragging  the  carcass ;  we 
had  to  feel  our  way  along  knife-like  ridges  in 
the  dark,  one  ahead  and  the  other  behind, 
while  the  steer  dangled  over  the  precipice 
on  one  side ;  and  in  going  down  the  buttes 
and  into  the  canyons  only  by  extreme  care 
could  we  avoid  getting  tangled  in  the  ropes 
and  rolling  down  in  a  heap.  Moreover  the 
fire  was  in  such  rough  places  that  the  carcass 
could  not  be  twitched  fairly  over  it,  and  so 
we  could  not  put  it  out.  Before  dawn  we 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        105 

were  obliged  to  abandon  our  fruitless  efforts 
and  seek  camp,  stiffened  and  weary.  From 
a  hill  we  looked  back  through  the  pitchy 
night  at  the  fire  we  had  failed  to  conquer. 
It  had  been  broken  into  many  lines  by  the 
roughness  of  the  chasm-strewn  and  hilly 
country.  Of  these  lines  of  flame  some  were 
in  advance,  some  behind,  some  rushing  for- 
ward in  full  blast  and  fury,  some  standing 
still;  here  and  there  one  wheeling  towards  a 
flank,  or  burning  in  a  semicircle,  round  an 
isolated  hill.  Some  of  the  lines  were  flicker- 
ing out ;  gaps  were  showing  in  others.  In 
the  darkness  it  looked  like  the  rush  of  a 
mighty  army,  bearing  triumphantly  onwards, 
in  spite  of  a  resistance  so  stubborn  as  to 
break  its  formation  into  many  fragments  and 
cause  each  one  of  them  to  wage  its  own  battle 
for  victory  or  defeat. 

On  the  wide  plains  where  the  prong-buck 
dwells  the  hunter  must  sometimes  face  thirst, 
as  well  as  fire  and  frost.  The  only  time  I 
ever  really  suffered  from  thirst  was  while 
hunting  prong-buck. 

It  was  late  in  the  summer.  I  was  with  the 
ranch  wagon  on  the  way  to  join  a  round-up, 
and  as  we  were  out  of  meat  I  started  for  a 
day's  hunt.  Before  leaving  in  the  morning  I 
helped  to  haul  the  wagon  across  the  river.  It 
was  fortunate  I  stayed,  as  it  turned  out. 
There  was  no  regular  ford  where  we  made  the 
crossing ;  we  anticipated  no  trouble,  as  the 
water  was  very  low,  the  season  being  dry. 
However,  we  struck  a  quicksand,  in  which 
the  wagon  settled,  while  the  frightened  horses 
floundered  helplessly.  All  the  riders  at  once 


Io6         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER 

got  their  ropes  on  the  wagon,  and  hauling 
from  the  saddle,  finally  pulled  it  through. 
This  took  time;  and  it  was  ten  o'clock  when 
I  rode  away  from  the  river,  at  which  my  horse 
and  I  had  just  drunk — our  last  drink  for  over 
twenty-four  hours  as  it  turned  out. 

After  two  or  three  hours'  ride,  up  winding 
coulies,  and  through  the  scorched  desolation 
of  patches  of  Bad  Lands,  I  reached  the  roll- 
ing prairie.  The  heat  and  drought  had  long 
burned  the  short  grass  dull  brown ;  the 
bottoms  of  what  had  been  pools  were  covered 
with  hard,  dry,  cracked  earth.  The  day  was 
cloudless,  and  the  heat  oppressive.  There 
were  many  antelope,  but  I  got  only  one  shot, 
breaking  a  buck's  leg  ;  and  though  I  followed 
it  for  a  couple  of  hours  I  could  not  overtake 
it.  By  this  time  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  I  was  far  away  from  the  river ;  so  I 
pushed  for  a  creek,  in  the  bed  of  which  I  had 
always  found  pools  of  water,  especially  to- 
wards the  head,  as  is  usual  with  plains  water- 
courses. To  my  chagrin,  however,  they  all 
proved  to  be  dry;  and  though  I  rode  up  the 
creek  bed  toward  the  head,  carefully  search- 
ing for  any  sign  of  water,  night  closed  on  me 
before  I  found  any.  For  two  or  three  hours 
I  stumbled  on,  leading  my  horse,  in  my  fruit 
less  search ;  then  a  tumble  over  a  cut  bank  in 
the  dark  warned  me  that  I  might  as  well  stay 
where  I  was  for  the  rest  of  the  warm  night. 
Accordingly  I  unsaddled  the  horse,  and  tied 
him  to  a  sage  brush  ;  after  awhile  he  began  to 
feed  on  the  dewy  grass.  At  first  I  was  too 
thirsty  to  sleep.  Finally  I  fell  into  slumber, 
and  when  I  awoke  at  dawn  I  felt  no  thirst 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.          107 

For  an  hour  or  two  more  I  continued  my 
search  for  water  in  the  creek  bed ;  then 
abandoned  it  and  rode  straight  for  the  river. 
By  the  time  we  reached  it  my  thirst  had  come 
back  with  redoubled  force,  my  mouth  was 
parched,  and  the  horse  was  in  quite  as  bad  a 
plight;  we  rushed  down  to  the  brink,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  we  could  neither  of  us  ever  drink 
our  fill  of  the  tepid,  rather  muddy  water.  Of 
course  this  experience  was  merely  unpleasant ; 
thirst  is  not  a  source  of  real  danger  in  the 
plains  country  proper,  whereas  in  the  hideous 
deserts  that  extend  from  southern  Idaho 
through  Utah  and  Nevada  to  Arizona,  it  ever 
menaces  with  death  the  hunter  and  explorer. 

In  the  plains  the  weather  is  apt  to  be  in 
extremes ;  the  heat  is  tropical,  the  cold 
arctic,  and  the  droughts  are  relieved  by  furi- 
ous floods.  These  are  generally  most  severe 
and  lasting  in  the  spring,  after  the  melting  of 
the  snow  ;  and  fierce  local  freshets  follow  the 
occasional  cloudbursts.  The  large  rivers  then 
become  wholly  impassable,  and  even  the 
smaller  are  formidable  obstacles.  It  is  not 
easy  to  get  cattle  across  a  swollen  stream, 
where  the  current  runs  like  a  turbid  mill-race 
over  the  bed  of  shifting  quicksand.  Once 
five  of  us  took  a  thousand  head  of  trail  steers 
across  the  Little  Missouri  when  the  river  was 
up,  and  it  was  no  light  task.  The  muddy 
current  was  boiling  past  the  banks,  covered 
with  driftwood  and  foul  yellow  froth,  and  the 
frightened  cattle  shrank  from  entering  it.  At 
last,  by  hard  riding,  with  much  loud  shouting 
and  swinging  of  ropes,  we  got  the  leaders  in, 
and  the  whole  herd  followed.  After  them  we 


lo8        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

went  in  our  turn,  the  horses  swimming  at  one 
moment,  and  the  next  staggering  and  floun- 
dering through  the  quicksand.  I  was  riding 
my  pet  cutting  horse,  Muley,  which  has  the 
provoking  habit  of  making  great  bounds 
where  the  water  is  just  not  deep  enough  for 
swimming  j  once  he  almost  unseated  me. 
Some  of  the  cattle  were  caught  by  the  currents 
and  rolled  over  and  over ;  most  of  these  we 
were  able,  with  the  help  of  our  ropes,  to  put 
on  their  feet  again  ;  only  one  was  drowned,  or 
rather  choked  in  a  quicksand.  Many  swam 
down  stream,  and  in  consequence  struck  a 
difficult  landing,  where  the  river  ran  under  a 
cut  bank;  these  we  had  to  haul  out  with  our 
ropes.  Both  men  and  horses  were  well  tired 
by  the  time  the  whole  herd  was  across. 

Although  I  have  often  had  a  horse  down  in 
quicksand,  or  in  crossing  a  swollen  river,  and 
have  had  to  work  hard  to  save  him,  I  have 
never  myself  lost  one  under  such  circum- 
stances. Yet  once  I  saw  the  horse  of  one  of 
my  men  drown  under  him  directly  in  front  of 
the  ranch  house,  while  he  was  trying  to  cross 
the  river.  This  was  in  early  spring,  soon 
after  the  ice  had  broken. 

When  making  long  wagon  trips  over  the 
great  plains,  antelope  often  offer  the  only 
source  of  meat  supply,  save  for  occasional 
water  fowl,  sage  fowl,  and  prairie  fowl — the 
sharp-tailed  prairie  fowl,  be  it  understood. 
This  is  the  characteristic  grouse  of  the  cattle 
country;  the  true  prairie  fowl  is  a  bird  of  the 
farming  land  farther  east. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  summer  of  '92  I 
found  it  necessary  to  travel  from  my  ranch  to 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        109 

the  Black  Hills,  some  two  hundred  miles 
south.  The  ranch  wagon  went  with  me, 
driven  by  an  all-round  plainsman,  a  man  of 
iron  nerves  and  varied  past,  the  sheriff  of  our 
county.  He  was  an  old  friend  of  mine ;  at 
one  time  I  had  served  as  deputy-sheriff  for 
the  northern  end  of  the  county.  In  the 
wagon  we  carried  our  food  and  camp  kit,  and 
our  three  rolls  of  bedding,  each  wrapped  in  a 
thick,  nearly  waterproof  canvas  sheet ;  we  had 
a  tent,  but  we  never  needed  it.  The  load 
being  light,  the  wagon  was  drawn  by  but  a 
span  of  horses,  a  pair  of  wild  runaways,  tough, 
and  good  travellers.  My  foreman  and  I  rode 
beside  the  wagon  on  our  wiry,  unkempt,  un- 
shod cattle-ponies.  They  carried  us  all  day 
at  a  rack,  pace,  single-foot  or  slow  lope, 
varied  by  rapid  galloping  when  we  made  long 
circles  after  game  ;  the  trot,  the  favorite  gait 
with  eastern  park-riders,  is  disliked  by  all 
peoples  who  have  to  do  much  of  their  life- 
work  in  the  saddle. 

The  first  day's  ride  was  not  attractive. 
The  heat  was  intense  and  the  dust  stifling,  as 
we  had  to  drive  some  loose  horses  for  the  first 
few  miles,  and  afterwards  to  ride  up  and  down 
the  sandy  river  bed,  where  the  cattle  had  gath- 
ered, to  look  over  some  young  steers  we  had  put 
on  the  range  the  preceding  spring.  When  we 
did  camp  it  was  by  a  pool  of  stagnant  water, 
in  a  creek  bottom,  and  the  mosquitoes  were  a 
torment.  Nevertheless,  as  evening  fell,  it  was 
pleasant  to  climb  a  little  knoll  nearby  and 
gaze  at  the  rows  of  strangely  colored  buttes, 
grass-clad,  or  of  bare  earth  and  scoria,  their 
soft  reds  and  purples  showing  as  through  a 


no        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

haze,  and  their  irregular  outlines  gradually 
losing  their  sharpness  in  the  fading  twilight. 

Next  morning  the  weather  changed,  grow- 
ing cooler,  and  we  left  the  tangle  of  ravines 
and  Bad  Lands,  striking  out  across  the  vast 
sea-like  prairies.  Hour  after  hour,  under  the 
bright  sun,  the  wagon  drew  slowly  ahead,  over 
the  immense  rolling  stretches  of  short  grass, 
dipping  down  each  long  slope  until  it  reached 
the  dry,  imperfectly  outlined  creek  bed  at  the 
bottom, — wholly  devoid  of  water  and  without 
so  much  as  a  shrub  of  wood, — and  then 
ascending  the  gentle  rise  on  the  other  side 
until  at  last  it  topped  the  broad  divide,  or 
watershed,  beyond  which  lay  the  shallow  wind- 
ing coulies  of  another  creek  system.  From 
each  rise  of  ground  we  looked  far  and  wide 
over  the  sunlit  prairie,  with  its  interminable 
undulations.  The  sicklebill  curlews  which  in 
spring,  while  breeding,  hover  above  the  travel- 
ling horseman  with  ceaseless  clamor,  had  for 
the  most  part  gone  southward.  We  saw  only 
one  small  party  of  half  a  dozen  birds ;  they 
paid  little  heed  to  us,  but  piped  to  one 
another,  making  short  flights,  and  on  alight- 
ing stood  erect,  first  spreading  and  then  fold- 
ing and  setting  their  wings  with  a  slow, 
graceful  motion.  Little  horned  larks  contin- 
ually ran  along  the  ruts  of  the  faint  wagon 
track,  just  ahead  of  the  team,  and  twittered 
plaintively  as  they  rose,  while  flocks  of  long- 
spurs  swept  hither  and  thither,  in  fitful,  irreg- 
ular flight. 

My  foreman  and  I  usually  rode  far  off  to 
one  side  of  the  wagon,  looking  out  for  ante- 
lope. Of  these  we  at  first  saw  few,  but  they 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        m 

grew  more  plentiful  as  we  journeyed  onward, 
approaching  a  big,  scantily  wooded  creek, 
where  I  had  found  the  prong-horn  abundant 
in  previous  seasons.  They  were  very  wary 
and  watchful  whether  going  singly  or  in  small 
parties,  and  the  lay  of  the  land  made  it  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  get  within  range.  The 
last  time  I  had  hunted  in  this  neighborhood 
was  in  the  fall,  at  the  height  of  the  rutting 
season.  Prong-bucks,  even  more  than  other 
game,  seem  fairly  maddened  by  erotic  excite- 
ment. At  the  time  of  my  former  hunt  they 
were  in  ceaseless  motion  ;  each  master  buck 
being  incessantly  occupied  in  herding  his 
harem,  and  righting  would-be  rivals,  while 
single  bucks  chased  single  does  asgrayhounds 
chase  hares,  or  else,  if  no  does  were  in  sight, 
from  sheer  excitement  ran  to  and  fro  as  if 
crazy,  racing  at  full  speed  in  one  direction, 
then  halting,  wheeling,  and  tearing  back  again 
just  as  hard  as  they  could  go. 

At  this  time,  however,  the  rut  was  still 
some  weeks  off,  and  all  the  bucks  had  to  do 
was  to  feed  and  keep  a  look-out  for  enemies. 
Try  my  best,  I  could  not  get  within  less  than 
four  or  five  hundred  yards,  and  though  I  took 
a  number  of  shots  at  these,  or  at  even  longer 
distances,  I  missed.  If  a  man  is  out  merely 
for  a  day's  hunt,  and  has  all  the  time  he 
wishes,  he  will  not  scare  the  game  and  waste 
cartridges  by  shooting  at  such  long  ranges, 
preferring  to  spend  half  a  day  or  more  in  pa- 
tient waiting  and  careful  stalking ;  but  if  he 
is  travelling,  and  is  therefore  cramped  for 
time,  he  must  take  his  chances,  even  at  the 
cost  of  burning  a  good  deal  of  powder. 


H2         THE   WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

I  was  finally  helped  to  success  by  a  char- 
acteristic freak  of  the  game  I  was  following. 
No  other  animals  are  as  keen-sighted,  or  are 
normally  as  wary  as  prong-horns ;  but  no 
others  are  so  whimsical  and  odd  in  their  be- 
havior at  times,  or  so  subject  to  fits  of  the  most 
stupid  curiosity  and  panic.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon, on  topping  a  rise  I  saw  two  good  bucks 
racing  off  about  three  hundred  yards  to  one 
side  ;  I  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  fired  three 
shots  at  them  in  vain,  as  they  ran  like  quarter- 
horses  until  they  disappeared  over  a  slight 
swell.  In  a  minute,  however,  back  they  came, 
suddenly  appearing  over  the  crest  of  the  same 
swell,  immediately  in  front  of  me,  and,  as  I 
afterwards  found  by  pacing,  some  three  hun- 
dred and  thirty  yards  away.  They  stood  side 
by  side  facing  me,  and  remained  motionless, 
unheeding  the  crack  of  the  Winchester ;  I 
aimed  at  the  right-hand  one,  but  a  front  shot 
of  the  kind,  at  such  a  distance,  is  rather  dif- 
ficult, and  it  was  not  until  I  fired  for  the 
fourth  time  that  he  sank  back  out  of  sight.  I 
could  not  tell  whether  I  had  killed  him,  and 
took  two  shots  at  his  mate,  as  the  latter  went 
off,  but  without  effect.  Running  forward,  I 
found  the  first  one  dead,  the  bullet  having 
gone  through  him  lengthwise  ;  the  other  did 
not  seem  satisfied  even  yet,  and  kept  hanging 
round  in  the  distance  for  some  minutes,  look- 
ing at  us. 

I  had  thus  bagged  one  prong-buck,  as  the 
net  outcome  of  the  expenditure  of  fourteen 
cartridges.  This  was  certainly  not  good 
shooting  ;  but  neither  was  it  as  bad  as  it 
would  seem  to  the  man  inexperienced  in  an- 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        113 

telope  hunting.  When  fresh  meat  is  urgently 
needed,  and  wh«n  time  is  too  short,  the 
hunter  who  is  after  antelope  in  an  open  flat- 
tish  country  must  risk  many  long  shots.  In 
no  other  kind  of  hunting  is  there  so  much 
long-distance  shooting,  or  so  many  shots  fired 
£or  every  head  of  game  bagged. 

Throwing  the  buck  into  the  wagon  we  con- 
tinued our  journey  across  the  prairie,  no  longer 
following  any  road,  and  before  sunset  jolted 
down  towards  the  big  creek  for  which  we  had 
been  heading.  There  were  many  water-holes 
therein,  and  timber  of  considerable  size  ;  box 
alder  and  ash  grew  here  and  there  in  clumps 
and  fringes,  beside  the  serpentine  curves  of 
the  nearly  dry  torrent  bed,  the  growth  being 
thickest  under  the  shelter  of  the  occasional 
low  bluffs.  We  drove  down  to  a  heavily 
grassed  bottom,  near  a  deep,  narrow  pool, 
with,  at  one  end,  that  rarest  of  luxuries  in  the 
plains  country,  a  bubbling  spring  of  pure,  cold 
water.  With  plenty  of  wood,  delicious  water, 
ample  feed  for  the  horses,  and  fresh  meat  we 
had  every  comfort  and  luxury  incident  to 
camp  life  in  good  weather.  The  bedding  was 
tossed  out  on  a  smooth  spot  beside  the  wagon ; 
the  horses  were  watered  and  tethered  to 
picket  pins  where  the  feed  was  best ;  water 
was  fetched  from  the  spring;  a  deep  hole 
was  dug  for  the  fire,  and  the  grass  roundabout 
carefully  burned  off;  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  bread  was  baking  in  the  Dutch  oven,  the 
potatoes  were  boiling,  antelope  steaks  were 
sizzling  in  the  frying-pan,  and  the  kettle  was 
ready  for  the  tea.  After  supper,  eaten  with 
the  relish  known  well  to  every  hard-working 
& 


II4        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

and  successful  hunter,  we  sat  for  half  an  hour 
or  so  round  the  fire,  and  then  turned  in  under 
the  blankets,  pulled  the  tarpaulins  over  us, 
and  listened  drowsily  to  the  wailing  of  the 
coyotes  until  we  fell  sound  asleep. 

We  determined  to  stay  in  this  camp  all  day, 
so  as  to  try  and  kill  another  prong-buck,  as 
we  would  soon  be  past  the  good  hunting 
grounds.  I  did  not  have  to  go  far  for  my 
game  next  morning,  for  soon  after  breakfast, 
while  sitting  on  my  canvas  bag  cleaning  my 
rifle,  the  sheriff  suddenly  called  to  me  that  a 
bunch  of  antelope  were  coming  towards  us. 
Sure  enough  there  they  were,  four  in  number, 
rather  over  half  a  mile  off,  on  the  first  bench 
of  the  prairie,  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
back  from  the  creek,  leisurely  feeding  in  our 
direction.  In  a  minute  or  two  they  were  out 
of  sight,  and  I  instantly  ran  along  the  creek 
towards  them  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  then 
crawled  up  a  short  shallow  coulie,  close  to 
the  head  of  which  they  seemed  likely  to  pass. 
When  nearly  at  the  end  I  cautiously  raised 
my  hatless  head,  peered  through  some  strag- 
gling weeds,  and  at  once  saw  the  horns  of  the 
buck.  He  was  a  big  fellow,  about  a  hundred 
and  twenty  yards  off;  the  others,  a  doe  and 
two  kids,  were  in  front.  As  I  lifted  myself 
on  my  elbows  he  halted  and  turned  his  raised 
head  towards  me ;  the  sunlight  shone  bright 
on  his  supple,  vigorous  body  with  its  mark- 
ings of  sharply  contrasted  brown  and  white. 
I  pulled  trigger,  and  away  he  went ;  but  I 
could  see  that  his  race  was  nearly  run,  and  he 
fell  after  going  a  few  hundred  yards. 

Soon  after  this  a  wind  storm  blew  up  so 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK.        115 

violent  that  we  could  hardly  face  it.  In  the 
late  afternoon  it  died  away,  and  I  again 
walked  out  to  hunt,  but  saw  only  does  and 
kids,  at  which  I  would  not  shoot.  As  the  sun 
set,  leaving  bars  of  amber  and  pale  red  in  the 
western  sky,  the  air  became  absolutely  calm. 
In  the  waning  evening  the  low,  far-off  ridges 
were  touched  with  a  violet  light ;  then  the 
hues  grew  sombre,  and  still  darkness  fell  on 
the  lonely  prairie. 

Next  morning  we  drove  to  the  river,  and 
kept  near  it  for  several  days,  most  of  the  time 
following  the  tracks  made  by  the  heavy 
wagons  accompanying  the  trail  herds — this 
being  one  of  the  regular  routes  followed  by 
the  great  throng  of  slow-moving  cattle  yearly 
driven  from  the  south.  At  other  times  we 
made  our  own  road.  Twice  or  thrice  we 
passed  ranch  houses ;  the  men  being  absent 
on  the  round-up  they  were  shut,  save  one 
which  was  inhabited  by  two  or  three  lean 
Texan  cow-punchers,  with  sun-burned  faces 
and  reckless  eyes,  who  had  come  up  with  a 
taail  herd  from  the  Cherokee  strip.  Once, 
near  the  old  Sioux  crossing,  where  the  Dakota 
war  bands  used  to  ford  the  river  on  their 
forays  against  the  Crows  and  the  settlers 
along  the  Yellowstone,  we  met  a  large  horse 
herd.  The  tough,  shabby,  tired-looking  an- 
imals, one  or  two  of  which  were  loaded  with 
bedding  and  a  scanty  supply  of  food,  were 
driven  by  three  travel-worn,  hard-faced  men, 
with  broad  hats,  shaps,  and  long  pistols  in 
their  belts.  They  had  brought  the  herd  over 
plain  and  mountain  pass  all  the  way  from  fat 
distant  Oregon. 


Ii6        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

It  was  a  wild,  rough  country,  bare  of  trees 
save  for  a  fringe  of  cottonwoods  along  the 
river,  and  occasional  clumps  of  cedar  on  the 
jagged,  brown  buttes  ;  as  we  went  farther  the 
hills  turned  the  color  of  chalk,  and  were 
covered  with  a  growth  of  pine.  We  came 
upon  acres  of  sunflowers  as  we  journeyed 
southward ;  they  are  not  as  tall  as  they  are  in 
the  rich  bottom  lands  of  Kansas,  where  the 
splendid  blossoms,  on  their  strong  stalks, 
stand  as  high  as  the  head  of  a  man  on  horse- 
back. 

Though  there  were  many  cattle  here,  big 
game  was  scarce.  However,  I  killed  plenty  of 
prairie  chickens  and  sage  hens  for  the  pot  ; 
and  as  the  sage  hens  were  still  feeding  largely 
on  crickets  and  grasshoppers,  and  not  ex- 
clusively on  sage,  they  were  just  as  good  eat- 
ting  as  the  prairie  chickens.  I  used  the  rifle, 
cutting  off  their  heads  or  necks,  and,  as  they 
had  to  be  shot  on  the  ground,  and  often  while 
in  motion,  or  else  while  some  distance  away, 
it  was  more  difficult  than  shooting  off  the 
heads  of  grouse  in  the  mountains,  where  the 
birds  sit  motionless  in  trees.  The  head  is  a 
small  mark,  while  to  hit  the  body  is  usually 
to  spoil  the  bird  ;  so  I  found  that  I  averaged 
three  or  four  cartridges  for  every  head  neatly 
taken  off,  the  remaining  shots  representing 
spoiled  birds  and  misses. 

For  the  last  sixty  or  seventy  miles  of  our 
trip  we  left  the  river  and  struck  off  across  a 
great,  desolate  gumbo  prairie.  There  was  no 
game,  no  wood  for  fuel,  and  the  rare  water- 
holes  were  far  apart,  so  that  we  were  glad 
when,  as  we  toiled  across  the  monotonous 


HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK:,      n; 

succession  of  long,  swelling  ridges,  the  dim, 
cloud-like  mass,  looming  vague  and  purple  on 
the  rim  of  the  horizon  ahead  of  us,  gradually 
darkened  and  hardened  into  the  bold  outline 
of  the  Black  Hills. 


Il8         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AMONG   THE    HIGH    HILLS  ;   THE    BIGHORN    OR 

MOUNTAIN  SHEEP. 

DURING  the  summer  of  1886  I  hunted 
chiefly  to  keep  the  ranch  in  meat.  It  was 
a  very  pleasant  summer  ;  although  it  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  worst  winter  we  ever  witnessed  on 
the  plains.  I  was  much  at  the  ranch,  where  I 
had  a  good  deal  of  writing  to  do  ;  but  every 
week  or  two  I  left,  to  ride  among  the  line 
camps,  or  spend  a  few  days  on  any  round-up 
which  happened  to  be  in  the  neighborhood. 

These  days  of  vigorous  work  among  the 
cattle  were  themselves  full  of  pleasure.  At 
dawn  we  were  in  the  saddle,  the  morning  air 
cool  in  our  faces ;  the  red  sunrise  saw  us 
loping  across  the  grassy  reaches  of  prairie 
land,  or  climbing  in  single  file  among  the 
rugged  buttes.  All  forenoon  we  spent  riding 
the  long  circle  with  the  cow-punchers  of  the 
round-up ;  in  the  afternoon  we  worked  the 
herd,  cutting  the  cattle,  with  much  breakneck 
galloping  and  dextrous  halting  and  wheeling. 
Then  came  the  excitement  and  hard  labor  of 
roping,  throwing,  and  branding  the  wild  and 
vigorous  range  calves  ;  in  a  corral,  if  one  was 
handy,  otherwise  in  a  ring  of  horsemen. 
Soon  after  nightfall  we  lay  down,  in  a  log  hut 


AMONG  THE  HIGH  HILLS. 


119 


or  tent,  if  at  a  line  camp  ;  under  the  open  sky, 
if  with  the  round-up  wagon. 

After  ten  days  or  so  of  such  work,  in  which 
every  man  had  to  do  his  full  share — for  lag- 
gards and  idlers,  no  matter  who,  get  no  mercy 
in  the  real  and  healthy  democracy  of  the 
round-up — I  would  go  back  to  the  ranch  to 
turn  to  my  books  with  added  zest  for  a  fort- 
night. Yet  even  during  these  weeks  at  the 
ranch  there  was  some  out-door  work ;  for  I 
was  breaking  two  or  three  colts.  I  took  my 
time,  breaking  them  gradually  and  gently, 
not,  after  the  usual  cowboy  fashion,  in  a  hurry, 
by  sheer  main  strength  and  rough  riding,  with 
the  attendant  danger  to  the  limbs  of  the  man 
and  very  probable  ruin  to  the  manners  of  the 
horse.  We  rose  early  ;  each  morning  I  stood 
on  the  low-roofed  verandah,  looking  out  un- 
der the  line  of  murmuring,  glossy-leaved  cot- 
tonwoods,  across  the  shallow  river,  to  see  the 
sun  flame  above  the  line  of  bluffs  opposite. 
In  the  evening  I  strolled  off  for  an  hour  or 
two's  walk,  rifle  in  hand.  The  roomy,  home- 
like ranch  house,  with  its  log  walls,  shingled 
roof,  and  big  chimneys  and  fireplaces,  stands 
in  a  glade,  in  the  midst  of  the  thick  forest, 
which  covers  half  the  bottom  ;  behind  rises, 
bare  and  steep,  the  wall  of  peaks,  ridges,  and 
table-lands. 

During  the  summer  in  question,  I  once  or 
twice  shot  a  whitetail  buck  right  on  this  large 
bottom  ;  once  or  twice  I  killed  a  blacktail  in 
the  hills  behind,  not  a  mile  from  the  ranch 
house.  Several  times  I  killed  and  brought 
in  prong-bucks,  rising  before  dawn,  and  rid- 
ing off  on  a  good  horse  for  an  all  day's  hunt 


120        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

in  the  rolling  prairie  country  twelve  or  fifteen 
miles  away.  Occasionally  I  took  the  wagon 
and  one  of  the  men,  driving  to  some  good 
hunting  ground  and  spending  a  night  or  two  ; 
usually  returning  with  two  or  three  prong- 
bucks,  and  once  with  an  elk — but  this  was 
later  in  the  fall.  Not  infrequently  I  went 
away  by  myself  on  horseback  for  a  couple  of 
days,  when  all  the  men  were  on  the  round-up, 
and  when  I  wished  to  hunt  thoroughly  some 
country  quite  a  distance  from  the  ranch.  I 
made  one  such  hunt  in  late  August,  because 
I  happened  to  hear  that  a  small  bunch  of 
mountain  sheep  were  haunting  a  tract  of  very 
broken  ground,  with  high  hills,  about  fifteen 
miles  away. 

I  left  the  ranch  early  in  the  morning,  riding 
my  favorite  hunting  horse,  old  Manitou.  The 
blanket  and  oilskin  slicker  were  rolled  and 
strapped  behind  the  saddle  ;  for  provisions  I 
carried  salt,  a  small  bag  of  hard  tack,  and  a 
little  tea  and  sugar,  with  a  metal  cup  in  which 
to  boil  my  water.  The  rifle  and  a  score  of 
cartridges  in  my  woven  belt  completed  my  out- 
fit. On  my  journey  I  shot  two  prairie  chickens 
from  a  covey  in  the  bottom  of  a  brush  coulie. 

I  rode  more  than  six  hours  before  reaching 
a  good  spot  to  camp.  At  first  my  route  lay 
across  grassy  plateaus,  and  along  smooth, 
wooded  coulies ;  but  after  a  few  miles  the 
ground  became  very  rugged  and  difficult.  At 
last  I  got  into  the  heart  of  the  Bad  Lands 
proper,  where  the  hard,  wrinkled  earth  was 
torn  into  shapes  as  sullen  and  grotesque  as 
those  of  dreamland.  The  hills  rose  high, 
their  barren  flanks  carved  and  channelled, 


AMONG  THE  HIGH  HILLS.  121 

their  tops  mere  needles  and  knife  crests. 
Bands  of  black,  red,  and  purple  varied  the 
gray  and  yellow-brown  of  their  sides ;  the 
tufts  of  scanty  vegetation  were  dull  green. 
Sometimes  I  rode  my  horse  at  the  bottom  of 
narrow  washouts,  between  straight  walls  of 
clay,  but  a  few  feet  apart ;  sometimes  I  had 
to  lead  him  as  he  scrambled  up,  down,  and 
across  the  sheer  faces  of  the  buttes.  The 
glare  from  the  bare  clay  walls  dazzled  the 
eye  ;  the  air  was  burning  under  the  hot  August 
sun.  I  saw  nothing  living  except  the  rattle- 
snakes, of  which  there  were  very  many. 

At  last,  in  the  midst  of  this  devil's  wilder- 
ness, I  came  on  a  lovely  valley.  A  spring 
trickled  out  of  a  cedar  canyon,  and  below  this 
spring  the  narrow,  deep  ravine  was  green  with 
luscious  grass  and  was  smooth  for  some  hun- 
dred of  yards.  Here  I  unsaddled,  and  turned 
old  Manitou  loose  to  drink  and  feed  at  his 
leisure.  At  the  edge  of  the  dark  cedar  wood 
I  cleared  a  spot  for  my  bed,  and  drew  a  few 
dead  sticks  for  the  fire.  Then  I  lay  down 
and  watched  drowsily  until  the  afternoon 
shadows  filled  the  wild  and  beautiful  gorge  in 
which  I  was  camped.  This  happened  early, 
for  the  valley  was  very  narrow  and  the  hills 
on  either  hand  were  steep  and  high. 

Springing  to  my  feet,  I  climbed  the  nearest 
ridge,  and  then  made  my  way,  by  hard  clamber- 
ing, from  peak  to  peak  and  from  crest  to  crest, 
sometimes  crossing  and  sometimes  skirting 
the  deep  washouts  and  canyons.  When  pos- 
sible I  avoided  appearing  on  the  sky  line,  and 
I  moved  with  the  utmost  caution,  walking  in 
a  wide  sweep  so  as  to  hunt  across  and  up 


122         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

wind.  There  was  much  sheep  sign,  some  of 
of  it  fresh,  though  I  saw  none  of  the  animals 
themselves ;  the  square  slots,  with  the  in- 
dented marks  of  the  toe  points  wide  apart, 
contrasting  strongly  with  the  heart-shaped 
and  delicate  footprints  of  deer.  The  animals 
had,  according  to  their  habit,  beaten  trails 
along  the  summits  of  the  higher  crests  ;  little 
side  trails  leading  to  any  spur,  peak,  or  other 
vantage-point  from  which  there  was  a  wide 
outlook  over  the  country  roundabout. 

The  bighorns  of  the  Bad  Lands,  unlike 
those  of  the  mountains,  shift  their  range  but 
little,  winter  or  summer.  Save  in  the  breed- 
ing season,  when  each  master  ram  gets  to- 
gether his  own  herd,  the  ewes,  lambs,  and 
yearlings  are  apt  to  go  in  bands  by  them- 
selves, while  the  males  wander  in  small  par- 
ties ;  now  and  then  a  very  morose  old  fellow 
lives  by  himself,  in  some  precipitous,  out-of- 
the-way  retreat.  The  rut  begins  with  them 
much  later  than  with  deer ;  the  exact  time 
varies  with  the  locality,  but  it  is  always  after 
the  bitter  winter  weather  has  set  in.  Then 
the  old  rams  fight  fiercely  together,  and  on 
rare  occasions  utter  a  long  grunting  bleat  or 
call.  They  are  marvellous  climbers,  and  dwell 
by  choice  always  among  cliffs  and  jagged, 
broken  ground,  whether  wooded  or  not.  An 
old  bighorn  ram  is  heavier  than  the  largest 
buck ;  his  huge,  curved  horns,  massive  yet 
supple  build,  and  proud  bearing  mark  him  as 
one  of  the  noblest  beasts  of  the  chase.  He 
is  wary ;  great  skill  and  caution  must  be  shown 
in  approaching  him  ;  and  no  one  but  a  good 
climber,  with  a  steady  head,  sound  lungs,  and 


AMONG  THE  HIGH  HILLS.  123 

trained  muscles,  can  successfully  hunt  him  in 
his  own  rugged  fastnesses.  The  chase  of  no 
other  kind  of  American  big  game  ranks  higher, 
or  more  thoroughly  tests  the  manliest  qualties 
of  the  hunter. 

I  walked  back  to  camp  in  the  gloaming,  tak- 
ing care  to  reach  it  before  it  grew  really  dark; 
for  in  the  Bad  Lands  it  is  entirely  impossible 
to  travel,  or  to  find  any  given  locality,  after 
nightfall.  Old  Manitou  had  eaten  his  fill 
and  looked  up  at  me  with  pricked  ears,  and 
wise,  friendly  face  as  I  climbed  down  the  side 
of  the  cedar  canyon  ;  then  he  came  slowly 
towards  me  to  see  if  I  had  not  something  for 
him.  I  rubbed  his  soft  nose  and  gave  him  a 
cracker ;  then  I  picketed  him  to  a  solitary 
cedar,  where  the  feed  was  good.  Afterwards 
I  kindled  a  small  fire,  roasted  both  prairie 
fowl,  ate  one,  and  put  the  other  by  for  break- 
fast ;  and  soon  rolled  myself  in  my  blanket, 
with  the  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and  the  oilskin 
beneath.  Manitou  was  munching  the  grass 
nearby.  I  lay  just  outside  the  line  of  stiff 
black  cedars  ;  the  night  air  was  soft  in  my 
face ;  I  gazed  at  the  shining  and  brilliant 
multitude  of  stars  until  my  eyelids  closed. 

The  chill  breath  which  comes  before  dawn 
awakened  me.  It  was  still  and  dark.  Through 
the  gloom  I  could  indistinctly  make  out  the 
loom  of  the  old  horse,  lying  down.  I  was 
speedily  ready,  and  groped  and  stumbled 
slowly  up  the  hill,  and  then  along  its  crest  to 
a  peak.  Here  I  sat  down  and  waited  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  until  gray  appeared 
in  the  east,  and  the  dim  light-streaks  enabled 
me  to  walk  farther.  Before  sunrise  I  was 


124         THE   WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

two  miles  from  camp ;  then  I  crawled  cau- 
tiously to  a  high  ridge  and  crouching  behind 
it  scanned  all  the  landscape  eagerly.  In  a 
few  minutes  a  movement  about  a  third  of  a 
mile  to  the  right,  midway  down  a  hill,  caught 
my  eye.  Another  glance  showed  me  three 
white  specks  moving  along  the  hillside. 
They  were  the  white  rumps  of  three  fine 
mountain  sheep,  on  their  way  to  drink  at  a 
little  alkaline  pool  in  the  bottom  of  a  deep, 
narrow  valley.  In  a  moment  they  went  out 
of  sight  round  a  bend  of  the  valley ;  and  I 
rose  and  trotted  briskly  towards  them,  along 
the  ridge.  There  were  two  or  three  deep  gul- 
lies to  cross,  and  a  high  shoulder  over  which 
to  clamber  ;  so  I  was  out  of  breath  when  I 
reached  the  bend  beyond  which  they  had  dis- 
appeared. Taking  advantage  of  a  scrawny 
sage  brush  as  cover  I  peeped  over  the  edge, 
and  at  once  saw  the  sheep,  three  big  young 
rams.  They  had  finished  drinking  and  were 
standing  beside  the  little  mirey  pool,  about 
three  hundred  yards  distant.  Slipping  back  I 
dropped  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
where  a  narrow  washout  zigzagged  from  side 
to  side,  between  straight  walls  of  clay.  The 
pool  was  in  the  upper  end  of  this  washout, 
under  a  cut  bank. 

An  indistinct  game  trail,  evidently  some- 
times used  by  both  bighorn  and  blacktail,  ran 
up  this  washout ;  the  bottom  was  of  clay  so 
that  I  walked  noiselessly ;  and  the  crooked- 
ness of  the  washout's  course  afforded  ample 
security  against  discovery  by  the  sharp  eyes 
of  the  quarry.  In  a  couple  of  minutes  I 
stalked  stealthily  round  the  last  bend,  my  rifle 


AMONG  THE  HIGH  HILLS,  125 

cocked  and  at  the  ready,  expecting  to  see  the 
rams  by  the  pool.  However,  they  had  gone, 
and  the  muddy  water  was  settling  in  their  deep 
hoof  marks.  Running  on  I  looked  over  the 
edge  of  the  cut  bank  and  saw  them  slowly 
quartering  up  the  hillside,  cropping  the  sparse 
tufts  of  coarse  grass.  I  whistled,  and  as  they 
stood  at  gaze  I  put  a  bullet  into  the  biggest,  a 
little  too  far  aft  of  the  shoulder,  but  ranging 
forward.  He  raced  after  the  others,  but  soon 
fell  behind,  and  turned  off  on  his  own  line,  at 
a  walk,  with  dropping  head.  As  he  bled 
freely  I  followed  his  tracks,  found  him,  very 
sick,  in  a  washout  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond, 
and  finished  him  with  another  shot.  After 
dressing  him,  and  cutting  off  the  saddle  and 
hams,  as  well  as  the  head,  I  walked  back  to 
camp,  breakfasted,  and  rode  Manitou  to  where 
the  sheep  lay.  Packing  it  securely  behind 
the  saddle,  and  shifting  the  blanket  roll  to  in 
front  of  the  saddle-horn,  I  led  the  horse  until 
we  were  clear  of  the  Bad  Lands ;  then 
mounted  him,  and  was  back  at  the  ranch  soon 
after  midday.  The  mutton  of  a  fat  young 
mountain  ram,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  is 
delicious. 

Such  quick  success  is  rare  in  hunting 
sheep.  Generally  each  head  has  cost  me  sev- 
eral days  of  hard,  faithful  work  ;  and  more 
than  once  I  have  hunted  over  a  week  without 
any  reward  whatsoever.  But  the  quarry  is  so 
noble  that  the  ultimate  triumph — sure  to 
come,  if  the  hunter  will  but  persevere  long 
enough — atones  for  all  previous  toil  and 
failure. 

Once  a  lucky  stalk  and  shot  at  a  bighorn 


126         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

was  almost  all  that  redeemed  a  hunt  in  the 
Rockies  from  failure.  I  was  high  among  the 
mountains  at  the  time,  but  was  dogged  by  ill 
luck;  I  had  seen  but  little,  and  I  had  not  shot 
very  well.  One  morning  I  rose  early,  and 
hunted  steadily  until  midday  without  seeing 
anything.  A  mountain  hunter  was  with  me. 
At  noon  we  sat  down  to  rest,  and  look  over 
the  country,  from  behind  a  shield  of  dwarf 
evergreens,  on  the  brink  of  a  mighty  chasm. 
The  rocks  fell  downwards  in  huge  cliffs,  stern 
and  barren  ;  from  far  below  rose  the  strangled 
roaring  of  the  torrent,  as  the  foaming  masses 
of  green  and  white  water  churned  round  the 
boulders  in  the  stream  bed.  Except  this 
humming  of  the  wild  water,  and  the  soughing 
of  the  pines,  there  was  no  sound.  We  were 
sitting  on  a  kind  of  jutting  promontory  of  rock 
so  that  we  could  scan  the  cliffs  far  and  near. 
First  I  took  the  glasses  and  scrutinized  the 
ground  almost  rod  by  rod,  for  nearly  half  an 
hour ;  then  my  companion  took  them  in  turn. 
It  is  very  hard  to  make  out  game,  especially 
when  lying  down,  and  still ;  and  it  is  curious 
to  notice  how,  after  fruitlessly  scanning  a 
country  through  the  glasses  for  a  considerable 
period,  a  herd  of  animals  will  suddenly  appear 
in  the  field  of  vision  as  if  by  magic.  In  this 
case,  while  my  companion  held  the  glasses  for 
the  second  time,  a  slight  motion  caught  his 
eye;  and  looking  attentively  he  made  out, 
five  or  six  hundred  yards  distant,  a  mountain 
ram  lying  among  some  loose  rocks  and  small 
bushes  at  the  head  of  a  little  grassy  cove  or 
nook,  in  a  shallow  break  between  two  walls  of 
the  cliff.  So  well  did  the  bluish  gray  of  its 


AMONG  THE  HIGH  HILLS.  127 

body  harmonize  in  tint  with  the  rocks  and 
shrubbery  that  it  was  some  time  before  I 
could  see  it,  even  when  pointed  out  to  me. 

The  wind  was  favorable,  and  we  at  once 
drew  back  and  began  a  cautious  stalk.  It  was 
impossible,  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  cliffs 
above  and  below  the  bighorn's  resting-place, 
to  get  a  shot  save  by  creeping  along  nearly  on 
a  level  with  him.  Accordingly  we  worked  our 
way  down  through  a  big  cleft  in  the  rocks, 
being  forced  to  go  very  slowly  and  carefully 
lest  we  should  start  a  loose  stone  ;  and  at  last 
reached  a  narrow  terrace  of  rock  and  grass 
along  which  we  walked  comparatively  at  our 
ease.  Soon  it  dwindled  away,  and  we  then 
had  to  do  our  only  difficult  piece  of  climbing 
— a  clamber  for  fifty  or  sixty  feet  across  a 
steep  cliff  shoulder.  Some  little  niches  and 
cracks  in  the  rock  and  a  few  projections  and 
diminutive  ledges  on  its  surface,  barely  en- 
abled us  to  swarm  across,  with  painstaking 
care — not  merely  to  avoid  alarming  the  game 
this  time,  but  also  to  avoid  a  slip  which  would 
have  proved  fatal.  Once  across  we  came  on 
a  long,  grassy  shelf,  leading  round  a  shoulder 
into  the  cleft  where  the  ram  lay.  As  I  neared 
the  end  I  crept  forward  on  hands  and  knees, 
and  then  crawled  flat,  shoving  the  rifle  ahead 
of  me,  until  I  rounded  the  shoulder  and 
peered  into  the  rift.  As  my  eyes  fell  on  the 
ram  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  with  a  clatter  of 
loose  stones,  and  stood  facing  me,  some  sixty 
yards  off,  his  dark  face  and  white  muzzle 
brought  out  finely  by  the  battered,  curved 
horns.  I  shot  into  his  chest,  hitting  him  in 
the  sticking  place ;  and  after  a  few  mad 

3—5 


128         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

bounds  he  tumbled  headlong,  and  fell  a  very 
great  distance,  unfortunately  injuring  one 
horn. 

When  much  hunted,  bighorn  become  the 
wariest  of  all  American  game,  and  their  chase 
is  then  peculiarly  laborious  and  exciting. 
But  where  they  have  known  nothing  of  men, 
not  having  been  molested  by  hunters,  they 
are  exceedingly  tame.  Professor  John  Bache 
McMaster  informs  me  that  in  1877  he  pene- 
trated to  the  Uintah  Mountains  of  Wyoming, 
which  were  then  almost  unknown  to  hunters  ; 
he  found  all  the  game  very  bold,  and  the  wild 
sheep  in  particular  so  unsuspicious  that  he 
could  walk  up  to  within  short  rifle  range  of 
them  in  the  open. 

On  the  high  mountains  bighorn  occasion- 
ally get  killed  by  a  snow-slide.  My  old  friend, 
the  hunter  Woody,  once  saw  a  band  which 
started  such  an  avalanche  by  running  along 
a  steep  sloping  snow  field,  it  being  in  the 
spring;  for  several  hundred  yards  it  thun- 
dered at  their  heels,  but  -by  desperate  racing 
they  just  managed  to  get  clear.  Woody  was 
also  once  an  eye-witness  to  the  ravages  the 
cougar  commits  among  these  wild  sheep. 
He  was  stalking  a  band  in  the  snow  when  he 
saw  them  suddenly  scatter  at  a  run  in  every 
direction.  Coming  up  he  found  the  traces  of 
a  struggle,  and  the  track  of  a  body  being 
dragged  through  the  snow,  together  with  the 
round  footmarks  of  the  cougar  ;  a  little  farther 
on  lay  a  dead  ewe,  the  blood  flowing  from  the 
fang  wounds  in  her  throat. 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  129 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MOUNTAIN   GAME  ;    THE    WHITE   GOAT. 

LATE  one  August  I  started  on  a  trip  to  the 
Big  Hole  Basin,  in  Western  Montana,  to 
hunt  white  goats.  With  me  went  a  friend  of 
many  hunts,  John  Willis,  a  tried  mountain 
man. 

We  left  the  railroad  at  the  squalid  little 
hamlet  of  Divide,  where  we  hired  a  team  and 
wagon  from  a  "  busted"  granger,  suspected 
of  being  a  Mormon,  who  had  failed,  even 
with  the  help  of  irrigation,  in  raising  a  crop. 
The  wagon  was  in  fairly  good  order;  the  har- 
ness was  rotten,  and  needed  patching  with 
ropes  ;  while  the  team  consisted  of  two  spoiled 
horses,  overworked  and  thin,  but  full  of  the 
devil  the  minute  they  began  to  pick  up  condi- 
tion. However,  on  the  frontier  one  soon 
grows  to  accept  little  facts  of  this  kind  with 
bland  indifference ;  and  Willis  was  not  only 
an  expert  teamster,  but  possessed  that  inex- 
haustible fertility  of  resource  and  unfailing 
readiness  in  an  emergency  so  characteristic 
of  the  veteran  of  the  border.  Through  hard 
experience  he  had  become  master  of  plains- 
craft  and  woodcraft,  skilled  in  all  frontier  lore. 

For  a  couple  of  days  we  jogged  up  the 
valley  of  the  Big  Hole  River,  along  the  mail 
road.  At  night  we  camped  under  our  wagon. 


130        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  stream  the  valley  was  a 
mere  gorge,  but  it  broadened  steadily  the 
farther  up  we  went,  till  the  rapid  river  wound 
through  a  wide  expanse  of  hilly,  treeless 
prairie.  On  each  side  the  mountains  rose, 
their  lower  flanks  and  the  foot-hills  covered 
with  the  evergreen  forest.  We  got  milk  and 
bread  at  the  scattered  log-houses  of  the  few 
settlers ;  and  for  meat  we  shot  sage  fowl, 
which  abounded.  They  were  feeding  on 
grasshoppers  at  this  time,  and  the  flesh,  es- 
pecially of  the  young  birds,  was  as  tender 
and  well  tasting  as  possible ;  whereas,  when 
we  again  passed  through  the  valley  in  Sep- 
tember, we  found  the  birds  almost  uneatable, 
being  fairly  bitter  with  sage.  Like  all  grouse 
they  are  far  tamer  earlier  in  the  season  than 
later,  being  very  wild  in  winter;  and,  of 
course,  they  are  boldest  where  they  are  least 
hunted  ;  but  for  some  unexplained  reason 
they  are  always  tamer  than  the  sharp-tail 
prairie  fowl  which  are  to  be  found  in  the 
same  locality. 

Finally  we  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Battle  Ground,  where  a  rude  stone  monument 
commemorates  the  bloody  drawn  fight  between 
General  Gibbons'  soldiers  and  the  Nez  Perces 
warriors  of  Chief  Joseph.  Here,  on  the  third 
day  of  our  journey,  we  left  the  beaten  road 
and  turned  toward  the  mountains,  following 
an  indistinct  trail  made  by  wood-choppers. 
We  met  with  our  full  share  of  the  usual  mis- 
haps incident  to  prairie  travel ;  and  towards 
evening  our  team  got  mired  in  crossing  a 
slough.  We  attempted  the  crossing  with 
some  misgivings,  which  were  warranted  by 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  131 

the  result ;  for  the  second  plunge  of  the 
horses  brought  them  up  to  their  bellies  in  the 
morass,  where  they  stuck.  It  was  freezing 
cold,  with  a  bitter  wind  blowing,  and  the  bog 
holes  were  skimmed  with  ice ;  so  that  we 
passed  a  thoroughly  wretched  two  hours  while 
freeing  the  horses  and  unloading  the  wagon. 
However,  we  eventually  got  across  ;  my  com- 
panion preserving  an  absolutely  unruffled 
temper  throughout,  perseveringly  whistling 
the  "  Arkansas  Traveller."  At  one  period, 
when  we  were  up  to  our  waists  in  the  icy 
mud,  it  began  to  sleet  and  hail,  and  I  mut- 
tered that  I  would  "  rather  it  did  n't  storm  "  ; 
whereat  he  stopped  whistling  for  a  moment 
to  make  the  laconic  rejoinder,  "We  're  not 
having  our  rathers  this  trip." 

At  nightfall  we  camped  among  the  willow 
bushes  by  a  little  brook.  For  firewood  we  had 
only  dead  willow  sticks ;  they  made  a  hot 
blaze  which  soon  died  out ;  and  as  the  cold 
grew  intense,  we  rolled  up  in  our  blankets  as 
soon  as  we  had  eaten  our  supper.  The  cli- 
mate of  the  Big  Hole  Basin  is  alpine ;  that 
night,  though  it  was  the  2oth  of  August,  the 
thermometer  sank  to  10°  F. 

Early  next  morning  we  struck  camp,  shiv- 
ering with  cold  as  we  threw  the  stiff,  frozen 
harness  on  the  horses.  We  soon  got  among 
the  foot-hills,  where  the  forest  was  open  and 
broken  by  large  glades,  forming  what  is  called 
a  park  country.  The  higher  we  went  the 
smaller  grew  the  glades  and  the  denser  the 
woodland ;  and  it  began  to  be  very  difficult 
to  get  the  wagon  forward.  In  many  places 
one  man  had  to  go  ahead  to  pick  out  the  way 


132         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

and  if  necessary  do  a  little  chopping  and  lop- 
ping with  the  axe,  while  the  other  followed 
driving  the  team.  At  last  we  were  brought  to 
a  standstill,  and  pitched  camp  beside  a  rapid, 
alder-choked  brook  in  the  uppermost  of  a 
series  of  rolling  glades,  hemmed  in  by  moun- 
tains and  the  dense  coniferous  forest.  Our 
tent  stood  under  a  grove  of  pines,  close  to  the 
brook ;  at  night  we  built  in  front  of  it  a  big 
fire  of  crackling,  resinous  logs.  Our  goods 
were  sheltered  by  the  wagon,  or  covered  with 
a  tarpaulin  ;  we  threw  down  sprays  of  odorous 
evergreens  to  make  a  resting-place  for  our 
bedding  ;  we  built  small  scaffolds  on  which  to 
dry  the  flesh  of  elk  and  deer.  In  an  hour  or 
two  we  had  round  us  all  the  many  real  com- 
forts of  such  a  little  wilderness  home. 

Whoever  has  long  roamed  and  hunted  in 
the  wilderness  always  cherishes  with  wistful 
pleasure  the  memory  of  some  among  the 
countless  camps  he  has  made.  The  camp  by 
the  margin  of  the  clear,  mountain-hemmed 
lake ;  the  camp  in  the  dark  and  melancholy 
forest,  where  the  gusty  wind  booms  through 
the  tall  pine  tops ;  the  camp  under  gnarled 
cottonwoods,  on  the  bank  of  a  shrunken  river, 
in  the  midst  of  endless  grassy  prairies/ — of 
these,  and  many  like  them,  each  has  had  its 
own  charm.  Of  course  in  hunting  one  must 
expect  much  hardship  and  repeated  disap- 
pointment ;  and  in  many  a  camp,  bad  weather, 
lack  of  shelter,  hunger,  thirst,  or  ill  success 
with  game,  renders  the  days  and  nights  irk- 
some and  trying.  Yet  the  hunter  worthy  of 
the  name  always  willingly  takes  the  bitter  if 
by  so  doing  he  can  get  the  sweet,  and  gladly 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  133 

balances  failure  and  success,  spurning  the 
poorer  souls  who  know  neither. 

We  turned  our  horses  loose,  hobbling  one  ; 
and  as  we  did  not  look  after  them  for  several 
days,  nothing  but  my  companion's  skill  as  a 
tracker  enabled  us  to  find  them  again.  There 
was  a  spell  of  warm  weather  which  brought 
out  a  few  of  the  big  bull-dog  flies,  which  drive 
a  horse — or  indeed  a  man — nearly  frantic  ; 
we  were  in  the  haunts  of  these  dreaded  and 
terrible  scourges,  which  up  to  the  beginning 
of  August  render  it  impossible  to  keep  stock 
of  any  description  unprotected  where  they 
abound,  but  which  are  never  formidable  after 
the  first  frost.  In  many  parts  of  the  wilder- 
ness these  pests,  or  else  the  incredible  swarms 
of  mosquitoes,  blackflies,  and  buffalo  gnats, 
render  life  not  worth  living  during  the  last 
weeks  of  spring  and  the  early  months  of  sum- 
mer. 

There  were  elk  and  deer  in  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  also  ruffed,  blue,  and  spruce  grouse ; 
so  that  our  camp  was  soon  stocked  with  meat. 
Early  one  morning  while  Willis  was  washing 
in  the  brook,  a  little  black  bear  thrust  its 
sharp  nose  through  the  alders  a  few  feet  from 
him,  and  then  hastily  withdrew  and  was  seen 
no  more.  The  smaller  wild-folk  were  more 
familiar.  As  usual  in  the  northern  mount- 
ains, the  gray  moose-birds  and  voluble,  nerv- 
ous little  chipmunks  made  themselves  at 
home  in  the  camp.  Parties  of  chickadees 
visited  us  occasionally.  A  family  of  flying 
squirrels  lived  overhead  in  the  grove ;  and  at 
nightfall  they  swept  noiselessly  from  tree  to 
tree,  in  long,  graceful  curves.  There  were 


134        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

sparrows  of  several  kinds  moping  about  in  the 
alders  ;  and  now  and  then  one  of  them  would 
sing  a  few  sweet,  rather  mournful  bars. 

After  several  days'  preliminary  exploration 
we  started  on  foot  for  white  goat.  We  took 
no  packs  with  us,  each  carrying  merely  his 
jacket,  with  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  paper  of 
salt  thrust  into  the  pockets.  Our  aim  was  to 
get  well  to  one  side  of  a  cluster  of  high,  bare 
peaks,  and  then  to  cross  them  and  come  back 
to  camp ;  we  reckoned  that  the  trip  would 
take  three  days. 

All  the  first  day  we  tramped  through  dense 
woods  and  across  and  around  steep  mountain 
spurs.  We  caught  glimpses  of  two  or  three 
deer  and  a  couple  of  elk,  all  does  or  fawns, 
however,  which  we  made  no  effort  to  molest. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  we  stumbled  across 
a  family  of  spruce  grouse,  which  furnished 
us  material  for  both  supper  and  breakfast. 
The  mountain  men  call  this  bird  the  fool- 
hen  ;  and  most  certainly  it  deserves  the 
name.  The  members  of  this  particular  flock, 
consisting  of  a  hen  and  her  three-parts  grown 
chickens,  acted  with  a  stupidity  unwonted 
even  for  their  kind.  They  were  feeding  on 
the  ground  among  some  young  spruce,  and  on 
our  approach  flew  up  and  perched  in  the 
branches  four  or  five  feet  above  our  heads. 
There  they  stayed,  uttering  a  low,  complain- 
ing whistle,  and  showed  not  the  slightest  sus- 
picion when  we  came  underneath  them  with 
long  sticks  and  knocked  four  off  their  perches 
— for  we  did  not  wish  to  alarm  any  large 
game  that  might  be  in  the  neighborhood  by 
firing.  One  particular  bird  was  partially  saved 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  135 

from  my  first  blow  by  the  intervening  twigs ; 
however,  it  merely  flew  a  few  yards,  and  then 
sat  with  its  bill  open, — having  evidently  been 
B  little  hurt, — until  I  came  up  and  knocked  it 
over  with  a  better  directed  stroke. 

Spruce  grouse  are  plentiful  in  the  moun- 
tain forests  of  the  northern  Rockies,  and, 
owing  to  the  ease  with  which  they  are  killed, 
they  have  furnished  me  my  usual  provender 
when  off  on  trips  of  this  kind,  where  I  carried 
no  pack.  They  are  marvellously  tame  and 
stupid.  The  young  birds  are  the  only  ones 
I  have  ever  killed  in  this  manner  with  a  stick; 
but  even  a  full  plumaged  old  cock  in  Sep- 
tember is  easily  slain  with  a  stone  by  any  one 
who  is  at  all  a  good  thrower.  A  man  who  has 
played  much  base-ball  need  never  use  a  gun 
when  after  spruce  grouse.  They  are  the 
smallest  of  the  grouse  kind  ;  the  cock  is  very 
handsome,  with  red  eyebrows  and  dark,  glossy 
plumage.  Moreover,  he  is  as  brave  as  he  is 
stupid  and  good-looking,  and  in  the  love  season 
becomes  fairly  crazy  :  at  such  time  he  will  occa- 
sionally make  feint  of  attacking  a  man,  strut- 
ting, fluttering,  and  ruffling  his  feathers.  The 
flesh  of  the  spruce  grouse  is  not  so  good  as 
that  of  his  ruffed  and  blue  kinsfolk ;  and  in 
winter,  when  he  feeds  on  spruce  buds,  it  is 
ill  tasting.  I  have  never  been  able  to  under- 
stand why  closely  allied  species,  under  ap- 
parently the  same  surroundings,  should  differ 
so  radically  in  such  important  traits  as  wari- 
ness and  capacity  to  escape  from  foes.  Yet 
the  spruce  grouse  in  this  respect  shows  the 
most  marked  contrast  to  the  blue  grouse  and 
the  ruffed  grouse.  Of  course  all  three  kinds 
3— 5B 


136        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

vary  greatly  in  their  behavior  accordingly  as 
they  do  or  do  not  live  in  localities  where  they 
have  been  free  from  man's  persecutions.  The 
ruffed  grouse,  a  very  wary  game  bird  in  all  old- 
settled  regions,  is  often  absurdly  tame  in  the 
wilderness ;  and  under  persecution,  even  the 
spruce  grouse  gains  some  little  wisdom ;  but 
the  latter  never  becomes  as  wary  as  the  for- 
mer, and  under  no  circumstances  is  it  possi- 
ble to  outwit  the  ruffed  grouse  by  such  clumsy 
means  as  serve  for  his  simple-minded  brother. 
There  is  a  similar  difference  between  the  sage 
fowl  and  prairie  fowl,  in  favor  of  the  latter. 
It  is  odd  that  the  largest  and  the  smallest 
kinds  of  grouse  found  in  the  United  States 
should  be  the  tamest ;  and  also  the  least  savory. 
After  tramping  all  day  through  the  forest,  at 
nightfall  we  camped  in  its  upper  edge,  just  at 
the  foot  of  the  steep  rock  walls  of  the  moun- 
tain. We  chose  a  sheltered  spot,  where  the 
small  spruce  grew  thick,  and  there  was  much 
dead  timber;  and  as  the  logs,  though  long, 
were  of  little  girth,  we  speedily  dragged  to- 
gether a  number  sufficient  to  keep  the  fire 
blazing  all  night.  Having  drunk  our  full  at 
a  brook  we  cut  two  forked  willow  sticks,  and 
then  each  plucked  a  grouse,  split  it,  thrust  the 
willow-fork  into  it,  and  roasted  it  before  the 
fire.  Besides  this  we  had  salt,  and  bread ; 
moreover  we  were  hungry  and  healthily  tired  ; 
so  the  supper  seemed,  and  was,  delicious. 
Then  we  turned  up  the  collars  of  our  jackets, 
and  lay  down,  to  pass  the  night  in  broken 
slumber ;  each  time  the  fire  died  down  the 
chill  waked  us,  and  we  rose  to  feed  it  with 
fresh  logs. 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  137 

At  dawn  we  rose,  and  cooked  and  ate  the 
two  remaining  grouse.  Then  we  turned  our 
faces  upwards,  and  passed  a  day  of  severe 
toil  in  climbing  over  the  crags.  Mountain- 
eering is  very  hard  work ;  and  when  we  got 
high  among  the  peaks,  where  snow  filled  the 
rifts,  the  thinness  of  the  air  forced  me  to  stop 
for  breath  every  few  hundred  yards  of  the 
ascent.  We  found  much  sign  of  white  goats, 
but  in  spite  of  steady  work  and  incessant  care- 
ful scanning  of  the  rocks,  we  did  not  see  our 
quarry  until  early  in  the  afternoon. 

We  had  clambered  up  one  side  of  a  steep 
saddle  of  naked  rock,  some  of  the  scarped 
ledges  being  difficult,  and  indeed  dangerous, 
of  ascent.  From  the  top  of  the  saddle  a 
careful  scrutiny  of  the  neighboring  peaks 
failed  to  reveal  any  game,  and  we  began  to  go 
down  the  other  side.  The  mountain  fell 
away  in  a  succession  of  low  cliffs,  and  we  had 
to  move  with  the  utmost  caution.  In  letting 
ourselves  down  from  ledge  to  ledge  one  would 
hold  the  guns  until  the  other  go  safe  footing, 
and  then  pass  them  down  to  him.  In  many 
places  we  had  to  work  our  way  along  the 
cracks  in  the  faces  of  the  frost-riven  rocks. 
At  last,  just  as  we  reached  a  little  smooth 
shoulder,  my  companion  said,  pointing  down 
beneath  us,  "  Look  at  the  white  goat  1  " 

A  moment  or  two  passed  before  I  got  my 
eyes  on  it.  We  were  looking  down  into  a 
basin-like  valley,  surrounded  by  high  mount- 
ain chains.  At  one  end  of  the  basin  was  a 
low  pass,  where  the  ridge  was  cut  up  with  the 
zigzag  trails  made  by  the  countless  herds  of 
game  which  had  travelled  it  for  many  genera- 


138         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

tions.  At  the  other  end  was  a  dark  gorge, 
through  which  a  stream  foamed.  The  floor 
of  the  basin  was  bright  emerald  green,  dotted 
with  darker  bands  where  belts  of  fir  trees 
grew ;  and  in  its  middle  lay  a  little  lake. 

At  last  I  caught  sight  of  the  goat,  feeding 
on  a  terrace  rather  over  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  yards  below  me.  I  promptly  fired,  but 
overshot.  The  goat  merely  gave  a  few  jumps 
and  stopped.  My  second  bullet  went  through 
its  lungs  ;  but  fearful  lest  it  might  escape  to 
some  inaccessible  cleft  or  ledge  I  fired  again, 
missing ;  and  yet  again,  breaking  its  back. 
Down  it  went,  and  the  next  moment  began  to 
roll  over  and  over,  from  ledge  to  ledge.  I 
greatly  feared  it  would  break  its  horns ;  an 
annoying  and  oft-recurring  incident  of  white- 
goat  shooting,  where  the  nature  of  the  ground 
is  such  that  the  dead  quarry  often  falls  hun- 
dreds of  feet,  its  body  being  torn  to  ribbons 
by  the  sharp  crags.  However  in  this  case 
the  goat  speedily  lodged  unharmed  in  a  little 
dwarf  evergreen. 

Hardly  had  I  fired  my  fourth  shot  when  my 
companion  again  exclaimed,  "  Look  at  the 
white  goats !  look  at  the  white  goats  1 " 
Glancing  in  the  direction  in  which  he  pointed 
I  speedily  made  out  four  more  goats  stand- 
ing in  a  bunch  rather  less  than  a  hundred 
yards  off,  to  one  side  of  my  former  line  of 
fire.  They  were  all  looking  up  at  me.  They 
stood  on  a  slab  of  white  rock,  with  which  the 
color  of  their  fleece  harmonized  well ;  and 
their  black  horns,  muzzles,  eyes,  and  hoofs 
looked  like  dark  dots  on  a  light-colored  sur- 
face, so  that  it  took  me  more  than  one  glance 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  139 

to  determine  what  they  were.  White  goat 
invariably  run  up  hill,  when  alarmed,  their  one 
idea  seeming  to  be  to  escape  danger  by  get- 
ting above  it ;  for  their  brute  foes  are  able  to 
overmatch  them  on  anything  like  level  ground, 
but  are  helpless  against  them  among  the  crags. 
Almost  as  soon  as  I  saw  them  these  four 
started  up  the  mountain,  nearly  in  my  direc- 
tion, while  I  clambered  down  and  across  to 
meet  them.  They  halted  at  the  foot  of  a 
cliff,  and  I  at  the  top,  being  unable  to  see 
them ;  but  in  another  moment  they  came 
bounding  and  cantering  up  the  sheer  rocks, 
not  moving  quickly,  but  traversing  the  most 
seemingly  impossible  places  by  main  strength 
and  sure-footedness.  As  they  broke  by  me, 
some  thirty  yards  off,  I  fired  two  shots  at  the 
rearmost,  an  old  buck,  somewhat  smaller  than 
the  one  I  had  just  killed ;  and  he  rolled  down 
the  mountain  dead.  Two  of  the  others,  a 
yearling  and  a  kid,  showed  more  alarm  than 
their  elders,  and  ran  off  at  a  brisk  pace. 
The  remaining  one,  an  old  she,  went  off  a 
hundred  yards,  and  then  deliberately  stopped 
and  turned  round  to  gaze  at  us  for  a  couple 
of  minutes !  Verily  the  white  goat  is  the 
fool-hen  among  beasts  of  the  chase. 

Having  skinned  and  cut  off  the  heads  we 
walked  rapidly  onwards,  slanting  down  the 
mountain  side,  and  then  over  and  down  the 
pass  of  the  game  trails ;  for  it  was  growing 
late  and  we  wished  to  get  well  down  among 
the  timber  before  nightfall.  On  the  way  an 
eagle  came  soaring  over  head,  and  I  shot  at 
it  twice  without  success.  Having  once  killed 
an  eagle  on  the  wing  with  a  rifle,  I  always 


140         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

have  a  lurking  hope  that  sometimes  I  may  be 
able  to  repeat  the  feat,  I  revenged  myself 
for  the  miss  by  knocking  a  large  blue  goshawk 
out  of  the  top  of  a  blasted  spruce,  where  it 
was  sitting  in  lazy  confidence,  its  crop  stuffed 
with  rabbit  and  grouse. 

A  coupl  of  hours'  hard  walking  brought  us 
down  to  timber  ;  just  before  dusk  we  reached 
a  favorable  camping  spot  in  the  forest,  be- 
side a  brook,  with  plenty  of  dead  trees  for 
the  night-fire.  Moreover,  the  spot  fortunately 
yielded  us  our  supper  too,  in  the  shape  of  a 
flock  of*  young  spruce  grouse,  of  which  we 
shot  off  the  heads  of  a  couple.  Immediately 
afterwards  I  ought  to  have  procured  our 
breakfast,  for  a  cock  of  the  same  kind  sud- 
denly flew  down  nearby  ;  but  it  was  getting 
dark,  I  missed  with  the  first  shot,  and  with 
the  second  must  have  merely  creased  the  neck, 
for  though  the  tough  old  bird  dropped,  it 
fluttered  and  ran  off  among  the  underbrush 
and  escaped. 

We  broiled  our  two  grouse  before  our  fire, 
dragged  plenty  of  logs  into  a  heap  beside  it, 
and  then  lay  down  to  sleep  fitfully,  an  hour 
or  so  at  a  time,  throughout  the  night.  We 
were  continually  wakened  by  the  cold,  when 
we  had  to  rise  and  feed  the  flames.  In  the 
early  morning  we  again  started,  walking  for 
some  time  along  the  fresh  trail  made  by  a 
large  band  of  elk,  cows  and  calves.  We 
thought  we  knew  exactly  the  trend  and  outlet 
of  the  valley  in  which  we  were,  and  that  there- 
fore we  could  tell  where  the  camp  was  ;  but, 
as  so  often  happens  in  the  wilderness,  we 
had  not  reckoned  aright,  having  passed  over 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  i4x 

one  mountain  spur  too  many,  and  entered  the 
ravines  of  an  entirely  different  watercourse- 
system.  In  consequence  we  became  en- 
tangled in  a  network  of  hills  and  valleys, 
making  circle  after  circle  to  find  our  bear- 
ings ;  and  we  only  reached  camp  after  twelve 
hours'  tiresome  tramp  without  food. 

On  another  occasion  I  shot  a  white  goat 
while  it  was  in  a  very  .curious  and  character- 
istic attitude.  I  was  hunting,  again  with  an 
old  mountain  man  as  my  sole  companion, 
among  the  high  mountains  of  the  Kootenai 
country,  near  the  border  of  Montana  and 
British  Columbia.  We  had  left  our  main 
camp,  pitched  by  the  brink  of  the  river,  and 
were  struggling  wearily  on  foot  through  the 
tangled  forest  and  over  the  precipitous  mount- 
ains, carrying  on  our  backs  light  packs,  con- 
sisting of  a  little  food  and  two  or  three  in- 
dispensable utensils,  wrapped  in  our  blankets. 
One  day  we  came  to  the  foot  of  a  great  chain 
of  bare  rocks,  and  climbed  laboriously  to  its 
crest,  up  cliff  after  cliff,  some  of  which  were 
almost  perpendicular.  Swarming  round  cer- 
tain of  the  rock  shoulders,  crossing  an  occa- 
sional sheer  chasm,  and  in  many  places  cling- 
ing to  steep,  smooth  walls  by  but  slight  holds, 
we  reached  the  top.  The  climbing  at  such  a 
height  was  excessively  fatiguing  ;  moreover, 
it  was  in  places  difficult  and  even  dangerous. 
Of  course  it  was  not  to  be  compared  to  the 
ascent  of  towering,  glacier-bearing  peaks, 
such  as  those  of  the  Selkirks  and  Alaska, 
where  climbers  must  be  roped  to  one  an- 
other and  carry  ice  axes. 

Once  at  the  top  we  walked  very  cautiously, 


142         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

being  careful  not  to  show  ourselves  against 
the  sky  line,  and  scanning  the  mountain  sides 
through  our  glasses.  At  last  we  made  out 
three  goats,  grazing  unconcernedly  on  a  nar- 
row grassy  terrace,  which  sloped  abruptly  to 
the  brink  of  a  high  precipice.  They  were  not 
very  far  off,  and  there  was  a  little  rock  spur 
above  them  which  offered  good  cover  for  a 
stalk;  but  we  had  to  crawl  so  slowly,  partly 
to  avoid  falling,  and  partly  to  avoid  detaching 
loose  rocks,  that  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before 
we  got  in  a  favorable  position  above  them, 
and  some  seventy  yards  off.  The  frost-dis- 
integrated mountains  in  which  they  live  are 
always  sending  down  showers  of  detached 
stones,  so  that  the  goats  are  not  very  sensitive 
to  this  noise ;  still,  they  sometimes  pay  in- 
stantaneous heed  to  it,  especially  if  the  sound 
is  repeated. 

When  I  peeped  over  the  little  ridge  of  rock, 
shoving  my  rifle  carefully  ahead  of  me,  I  found 
that  the  goats  had  finished  feeding  and  were 
preparing  to  leave  the  slope.  The  old  billy 
saw  me  at  once,  but  evidently  could  not  quite 
make  me  out.  Thereupon,  gazing  intently  at 
me,  he  rose  gravely  on  his  haunches,  sitting 
up  almost  in  the  attitude  of  a  dog  when  beg- 
ging. I  know  no  other  horned  animal  that 
ever  takes  this  position. 

As  I  fired  he  rolled  backwards,  slipped 
down  the  grassy  slope,  and  tumbled  over  the 
brink  of  the  cliff,  while  the  other  two,  a  she 
and  a  kid,  after  a  moment's  panic-struck 
pause,  and  a  bewildered  rush  in  the  wrong 
direction,  made  off  up  a  little  rocky  gully,  and 
were  out  of  sight  in  a  moment.  To  my 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  143 

chagrin  when  I  finally  reached  the  carcass, 
after  a  tedious  and  circuitous  climb  to  the 
foot  of  the  cliff,  I  found  both  horns  broken 
off. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  clam- 
bered down  to  the  border  of  a  little  marshy 
alpine  lake,  which  we  reached  in  an  hour  or 
so.  Here  we  made  our  camp  about  sunset, 
in  a  grove  of  stunted  spruces,  which  furnished 
plenty  of  dead  timber  for  the  fire.  There 
were  many  white-goat  trails  leading  to  this 
lake,  and  from  the  slide  rock  roundabout  we 
heard  the  shrill  whistling  of  hoary  rock-wood- 
chucks,  and  the  querulous  notes  of  the  little 
conies — two  of  the  sounds  most  familiar  to 
the  white-goat  hunter.  These  conies  had 
gathered  heaps  of  dried  plants,  and  had 
stowed  them  carefully  away  for  winter  use 
in  the  cracks  between  the  rocks. 

While  descending  the  mountain  we  came 
on  a  little  pack  of  snow  grouse  or  mountain 
ptarmigan,  birds  which,  save  in  winter,  are 
always  found  above  timber  line.  They  were 
tame  and  fearless,  though  hard  to  make  out 
as  they  ran  among  the  rocks,  cackling  noisily, 
with  their  tails  cocked  aloft;  and  we  had  no 
difficulty  in  killing  four,  which  gave  us  a  good 
breakfast  and  supper.  Old  white  goats  are 
intolerably  musky  in  flavor,  there  being  a  very 
large  musk-pod  between  the  horn  and  ear. 
The  kids  are  eatable,  but  of  course  are  rarely 
killed ;  the  shot  being  usually  taken  at  the 
animal  with  best  horns — and  the  shes  and 
young  of  any  game  should  only  be  killed  when 
there  is  a  real  necessity. 

These  two  hunts  may  be  taken  as  samples 


144        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

of  most  expeditions  after  white  goat.  There 
are  places  where  the  goats  live  in  mountains 
close  to  bodies  of  water,  either  ocean  fiords 
or  large  lakes  ;  and  in  such  places  canoes 
can  be  used,  to  the  greatly  increased  comfort 
and  lessened  labor  of  the  hunters.  In  other 
places,  where  the  mountains  are  low  and  the 
goats  spend  all  the  year  in  the  timber,  a 
pack-train  can  be  taken  right  up  to  the  hunt- 
ing grounds.  But  generally  one  must  go  on 
foot,  carrying  everything  on  one's  back,  and  at 
night  lying  out  in  the  open  or  under  a  brush 
lean-to  ;  meanwhile  living  on  spruce  grouse 
and  ptarmigan,  with  an  occasional  meal  of 
trout,  and  in  times  of  scarcity  squirrels,  or 
anything  else.  Such  a  trip  entails  severe 
fatigue  and  not  a  little  hardship.  The  actual 
hunting,  also,  implies  difficult  and  laborious 
climbing,  for  the  goats  live  by  choice  among 
the  highest  and  most  inaccessible  mountains  ; 
though  where  they  are  found,  as  they  some- 
times are,  in  comparatively  low  forest-clad 
ranges,  I  have  occasionally  killed  them  with 
little  trouble  by  lying  in  wait  beside  the  well- 
trodden  game  trails  they  make  in  the  timber. 
In  any  event  the  hard  work  is  to  get  up  to 
the  grounds  where  the  game  is  found.  Once 
the  animals  are  spied  there  is  but  little  call 
for  the  craft  of  the  still-hunter  in  approaching 
them.  Of  all  American  game  the  white  goat 
is  the  least  wary  and  most  stupid.  In  places 
where  it  is  much  hunted  it  of  course  gradually 
grows  wilder  and  becomes  difficult  to  ap- 
proach and  kill  ;  and  much  of  its  silly  tame- 
ness  is  doubtless  due  to  the  inaccessible 
nature  of  its  haunts,  which  renders  it  ordina« 


MO  UNTA  IN  GAME.  1 45 

rily  free  from  molestation  ;  but  aside  from  this 
it  certainly  seems  as  if  it  was  naturally  less 
wary  than  either  deer  or  mountain  sheep. 
The  great  point  is  to  get  above  it.  All  its 
foes  live  in  the  valleys,  and  while  it  is  in  the 
mountains,  if  they  strive  to  approach  it  at 
all,  they  must  do  so  from  below.  It  is  in 
consequence  always  on  the  watch  for  danger 
from  beneath ;  but  it  is  easily  approached 
from  above,  and  then,  as  it  generally  tries  to 
escape  by  running  up  hill,  the  hunter  is  very 
apt  to  get  a  shot. 

Its  chase  is  thus  laborious  rather  than  ex- 
citing ;  and  to  my  mind  it  is  less  attractive 
than  is  the  pursuit  of  most  of  our  other 
game.  Yet  it  has  an  attraction  of  its  own 
after  all ;  while  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery 
amid  which  it  must  be  carried  on,  the  freedom 
and  hardihood  of  the  life  and  the  pleasure  of 
watching  the  queer  habits  of  the  game,  all 
combine  to  add  to  the  hunter's  enjoyment. 

White  goats  are  self-confident,  pugnacious 
beings.  An  old  billy,  if  he  discovers  the 
presence  of  a  foe  without  being  quite  sure 
what  it  is,  often  refuses  to  take  flight,  but 
walks  around,  stamping,  and  shaking  his 
head.  The  needle-pointed  black  horns  are 
alike  in  both  sexes,  save  that  the  males'  are 
a  trifle  thicker ;  and  they  are  most  effective 
.weapons  when  wielded  by  the  muscular  neck 
of  a  resolute  and  wicked  old  goat.  They 
wound  like  stilettos  and  their  bearer  is  in 
consequence  a  much  more  formidable  foe  in 
a  hand-to-hand  struggle  than  either  a  branch- 
ing-antlered  deer  or  a  mountain  ram,  with  his 
great  battering  head.  The  goat  does  not 


146        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

butt ;  he  thrusts.  If  he  can  cover  his  back 
by  a  tree  trunk  or  boulder  he  can  stand  oft 
most  carnivorous  animals,  no  larger  than  he  is. 

Though  awkward  in  movement,  and  lacking 
all  semblance  of  lightness  or  agility,  goats 
are  excellent  climbers.  One  of  their  queer 
traits  is  their  way  of  getting  their  forehoofs 
on  a  slight  ledge,  and  then  drawing  or  lifting 
their  bodies  up  by  simple  muscular  exertion, 
stretching  out  their  elbows,  much  as  a  man 
would.  They  do  a  good  deal  of  their  climbing 
by  strength  and  command  over  their  muscles ; 
although  they  are  also  capable  of  making  as- 
tonishing bounds.  If  a  cliff  surface  has  the 
least  slope,  and  shows  any  inequalities  or 
roughness  whatever,  goats  can  go  up  and  down 
it  with  ease.  With  their  short,  stout  legs,  and 
large,  sharp-edged  hoofs  they  clamber  well 
over  ice,  passing  and  repassing  the  mountains 
at  a  time  when  no  man  would  so  much  as 
crawl  over  them.  They  bear  extreme  cold 
with  indifference,  but  are  intolerant  of  much 
heat ;  even  when  the  weather  is  cool  they  are 
apt  to  take  their  noontide  rest  in  caves  ;  I 
have  seen  them  solemnly  retiring,  for  this  pur- 
pose, to  great  rents  in  the  rocks,  at  a  time 
when  my  own  teeth  chattered  because  of  the 
icy  wind. 

They  go  in  small  flocks ;  sometimes  in  pairs 
or  little  family  parties.  After  the  rut  the 
bucks  often  herd  by  themselves,  or  go  off 
alone,  while  the  young  and  the  shes  keep 
together  throughout  the  winter  and  the  spring. 
The  young  are  generally  brought  forth  above 
timber  line,  or  at  its  uppermost  edge,  save 
of  course  in  those  places  where  the  goats 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  147 

live  among  mountains  wooded  to  the  top. 
Throughout  the  summer  they  graze  on  the 
short  mountain  plants  which  in  many  places 
form  regular  mats  above  timber  line ;  the 
deep  winter  snows  drive  them  low  down  in 
the  wooded  valleys,  and  force  them  to  subsist 
by  browsing.  They  are  so  strong  that  they 
plough  their  way  readily  through  deep  drifts  ; 
and  a  flock  of  goats  at  this  season,  when  their 
white  coat  is  very  long  and  thick,  if  seen 
waddling  off  through  the  snow,  have  a  comical 
likeness  to  so  many  diminutive  polar  bears. 
Of  course  they  could  easily  be  run  down  in 
the  snow  by  a  man  on  snowshoes,  in  the 
plain ;  but  on  a  mountain  side  there  are 
always  bare  rocks  and  cliff  shoulders,  glassy 
with  winter  ice,  which  give  either  goats  or 
sheep  an  advantage  over  their  snowshoe- 
bearing  foes  that  deer  and  elk  lack.  When- 
ever the  goats  pass  the  winter  in  woodland 
they  leave  plenty  of  sign  in  the  shape  of 
patches  of  wool  clinging  to  all  the  sharp 
twigs  and  branches  against  which  they  have 
brushed.  In  the  spring  they  often  form  the 
habit  of  drinking  at  certain  low  pools,  to 
which  they  beat  deep  paths ;  and  at  this 
season,  and  to  a  less  extent  in  the  summer 
and  fall,  they  are  very  fond  of  frequenting 
mineral  licks.  At  any  such  lick  the  ground 
is  tramped  bare  of  vegetation,  and  is  filled 
with  pits  and  hollows,  actually  dug  by  the 
tongues  of  innumerable  generations  of  ani- 
mals ;  while  the  game  paths  lead  from  them 
in  a  dozen  directions. 

In  spite  of  the  white  goat's  pugnacity,  its 
clumsiness  renders  it  no  very  difficult  prey 


148         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

when  taken  unawares  by  either  wolf  or  cou- 
gar, its  two  chief  enemies.  They  cannot 
often  catch  it  when  it  is  above  timber  line ; 
but  it  is  always  in  sore  peril  from  them  when 
it  ventures  into  the  forest.  Bears,  also,  prey 
upon  it  in  the  early  spring  ;  and  one  mid- 
winter my  friend  Willis  found  a  wolverine 
eating  a  goat  which  it  had  killed  in  a  snow- 
drift at  the  foot  of  a  cliff.  The  savage  little 
beast  growled  and  showed  fight  when  he  came 
near  the  body.  Eagles  are  great  enemies  of 
the  young  kids,  as  they  are  of  the  young  lambs 
of  the  bighorn. 

The  white  goat  is  the  only  game  beast  of 
America  which  has  not  decreased  in  numbers 
since  the  arrival  of  the  white  man.  Although 
in  certain  localities  it  is  now  decreasing,  yet, 
taken  as  a  whole,  it  is  probably  quite  as  plen- 
tiful now  as  it  was  fifty  years  back  ;  for  in  the 
early  part  of  the  present  century  there  were 
Indian  tribes  who  hunted  it  perseveringly  to 
make  the  skins  into  robes,  whereas  now  they 
get  blankets  from  the  traders  and  no  longer 
persecute  the  goats.  The  early  trappers  and 
mountain-men  knew  but  little  of  the  animal. 
Whether  they  were  after  beaver,  or  were 
hunting  big  game,  or  were  merely  exploring, 
they  kept  to  the  valleys  ;  there  was  no  induce- 
ment for  them  to  climb  to  the  tops  of  the 
mountains ;  so  it  resulted  that  there  was  no 
animal  with  which  the  old  hunters  were  so 
unfamiliar  as  with  the  white  goat.  The  pro- 
fessional hunters  of  to-day  likewise  bother  it 
but  little  ;  they  do  not  care  to  undergo  severe 
toil  for  an  animal  with  worthless  flesh  and  a 
hide  of  little  value — for  it  is  only  in  the  late 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  149 

fall  and  winter  that  the  long  hair  and  fine  wool 
give  the  robe  any  beauty. 

So  the  quaint,  sturdy,  musky  beasts,  with 
their  queer  and  awkward  ways,  their  boldness 
and  their  stupidity,  with  their  white  coats  and 
big  black  hoofs,  black  muzzles,  and  sharp, 
gently-curved  span-long  black  horns,  have 
held  their  own  well  among  the  high  mountains 
that  they  love.  In  the  Rockies  and  the  Coast 
ranges  they  abound  from  Alaska  south  to 
Montana,  Idaho,  and  Washington ;  and  here 
and  there  isolated  colonies  are  found  among 
the  high  mountains  to  the  southward,  in  Wy- 
oming, Colorado,  even  in  New  Mexico,  and, 
strangest  of  all,  in  one  or  two  spots  among 
the  barren  coast  mountains  of  southern  Cali- 
fornia. Long  after  the  elk  has  followed  the 
buffalo  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds  the  white 
goat  will  flourish  among  the  towering  and 
glacier-riven  peaks,  and,  grown  wary  with 
succeeding  generations,  will  furnish  splendid 
sport  to  those  hunters  who  are  both  good 
riflemen  and  hardy  cragsmen. 


150        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS  ;   THE  CARIBOU. 

IN  September,  1888,  I  was  camped  on  the 
shores  of  Kootenai  Lake,  having  with  me 
as  companions,  John  Willis  and  an  impassive- 
looking  Indian  named  Ammal.  Coming 
across  through  the  dense  coniferous  forests  of 
northern  Idaho  we  had  struck  the  Kootenai 
River.  Then  we  went  down  with  the  current 
as  it  wound  in  half  circles  through  a  long 
alluvial  valley  of  mixed  marsh  and  woodland, 
hemmed  in  by  lofty  mountains.  The  lake 
itself,  when  we  reached  it,  stretched  straight 
away  like  a  great  fiord,  a  hundred  miles  long 
and  about  three  in  breadth.  The  frowning 
and  rugged  Selkirks  came  down  sheer  to  the 
water's  edge.  So  straight  were  the  rock  walls 
that  it  was  difficult  for  us  to  land  with  our 
batteau,  save  at  the  places  where  the  rapid 
mountain  torrents  entered  the  lake.  As  these 
streams  of  swift  water  broke  from  their  narrow 
gorges  they  made  little  deltas  of  level  ground, 
with  beaches  of  fine  white  sand;  and  the 
stream-banks  were  edged  with  cottonwood 
and  poplar,  their  shimmering  foliage  relieving 
the  sombre  coloring  of  the  evergreen  forest. 

Close  to  such  a  brook,  from  which  we  drew 
strings  of  large  silver  trout,  our  tent  was 
pitched,  just  within  the  forest.  From  be« 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        151 

tween  the  trunks  of  two  gnarled,  wind-beaten 
trees,  a  pine  and  a  cottomvood,  we  looked  out 
across  the  lake.  The  little  bay  in  our  front, 
in  which  we  bathed  and  swam,  was  some- 
times glassily  calm ;  and  again  heavy  wind 
squalls  arose,  and  the  surf  beat  strongly  on 
the  beach  where  our  boat  was  drawn  up. 
Now  and  then  great  checker-back  loons 
drifted  buoyantly  by,  stopping  with  bold  curi- 
osity to  peer  at  the  white  tent  gleaming 
between  the  tree-trunks,  and  at  the  smoke 
curling  above  their  tops ;  and  they  called  to 
one  another,  both  at  dawn  and  in  the  day- 
time, with  shrieks  of  unearthly  laughter. 
Troops  of  noisy,  parti-colored  Clark's  crows 
circled  over  the  tree-tops  or  hung  from  among 
the  pine  cones ;  jays  and  chickadees  came 
round  camp,  and  woodpeckers  hammered 
lustily  in  the  dead  timber.  Two  or  three 
times  parties  of  Indians  passed  down  the 
lake,  in  strangely  shaped  bark  canoes,  with 
peaked,  projecting  prows  and  sterns ;  craft 
utterly  unlike  the  graceful,  feather-floating 
birches  so  beloved  by  both  the  red  and  the 
white  woodsmen  of  the  northeast.  Once  a 
couple  of  white  men,  in  a  dugout  or  pirogue 
made  out  of  a  cottonwood  log,  stopped  to 
get  lunch.  They  were  mining  prospectors, 
French  Canadians  by  birth,  but  beaten  into 
the  usual  frontier-mining  stamp ;  doomed  to 
wander  their  lives  long,  ever  hoping,  in  the 
quest  for  metal  wealth. 

With  these  exceptions  there  was  nothing  to 
break  the  silent  loneliness  of  the  great  lake. 
Shrouded  as  we  were  in  the  dense  forest,  and 
at  the  foot  of  the  first  steep  hills,  we  could 


152         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

see  nothing  of  the  country  on  the  side  where 
we  were  camped ;  but  across  the  water  the 
immense  mountain  masses  stretched  away 
from  our  vision,  range  upon  range,  until  they 
turned  to  a  glittering  throng  of  ice  peaks  and 
snow  fields,  the  feeding  beds  of  glaciers. 
Between  the  lake  and  the  snow  range  were 
chains  of  gray  rock  peaks,  and  the  mountain 
sides  and  valleys  were  covered  by  the  prime- 
val forest.  The  woods  were  on  fire  across 
the  lake  from  our  camp,  burning  steadily.  At 
night  the  scene  was  very  grand,  as  the  fire 
worked  slowly  across  the  mountain  sides  in 
immense  zigzags  of  quivering  red ;  while  at 
times  isolated  pines  of  unusual  size  kindled, 
and  flamed  for  hours,  like  the  torches  of  a 
giant.  Finally  the  smoke  grew  so  thick  as  to 
screen  from  our  views  the  grand  landscape 
opposite. 

We  had  come  down  from  a  week's  fruitless 
hunting  in  the  mountains ;  a  week  of  exces- 
sive toil,  in  a  country  where  we  saw  no  game — 
for  in  our  ignorance  we  had  wasted  time,  not 
going  straight  back  to  the  high  ranges,  from 
which  the  game  had  not  yet  descended.  After 
three  or  four  days  of  rest,  and  of  feasting  on 
trout — a  welcome  relief  to  the  monotony  of 
frying-pan  bread  and  coarsey  salt  pork — we 
were  ready  for  another  trial ;  and  early  one 
morning  we  made  the  start.  Having  to  pack 
everything  for  a  fortnight's  use  on  our  backs, 
through  an  excessively  rough  country  we  of 
course  travelled  as  light  as  possible,  leaving 
almost  all  we  had  with  the  tent  and  boat. 
Each  took  his  own  blanket ;  and  among  us  we 
carried  a  frying-pan,  a  teapot,  flour,  pork, 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        153 

salt,  tea,  and  matches.  I  also  took  a  jacket, 
a  spare  pair  of  socks,  some  handkerchiefs, 
and  my  washing  kit.  Fifty  cartridges  in  my 
belt  completed  my  outfit. 

We  walked  in  single  file,  as  is  necessary  in 
thick  woods.  The  white  hunter  led  and  I 
followed,  each  with  rifle  on  shoulder  and  pack 
on  back.  Ammal,  the  Indian,  pigeon-toed 
along  behind,  carrying  his  pack,  not  as  we  did 
ours,  but  by  help  of  a  forehead-band,  which  he 
sometimes  shifted  across  his  breast.  The 
travelling  through  the  tangled,  brush-choked 
forest,  and  along  the  boulder-strewn  and  precip- 
itous mountain  sides,  was  inconceivably  rough 
and  difficult.  In  places  we  followed  the  valley, 
and  when  this  became  impossible  we  struck 
across  the  spurs.  Every  step  was  severe  toil. 
Now  we  walked  through  deep  moss  and  rot- 
ting mould,  every  few  feet  clambering  over 
huge  trunks  ;  again  we  pushed  through  a  stiff 
jungle  of  bushes  and  tall,  prickly  plants — 
called  "  devil's  clubs," — which  stung  our 
hands  and  faces.  Up  the  almost  perpendicu- 
lar hill-sides  we  in  many  places  went  practi- 
cally on  all  fours,  forcing  our  way  over  the 
rocks  and  through  the  dense  thickets  of  laurels 
or  young  spruce.  Where  there  were  windfalls 
or  great  stretches  of  burnt  forest,  black  and 
barren  wastes,  we  balanced  and  leaped  from 
log  to  log,  sometimes  twenty  or  thirty  feet 
above  the  ground ;  and  when  such  a  stretch 
was  on  a  steep  hill-side,  and  especially  if  the 
logs  were  enveloped  in  a  thick  second  growth 
of  small  evergreens,  the  footing  was  very  in- 
secure, and  the  danger  from  a  fall  consider- 
able. Our  packs  added  greatly  to  our  labor, 


154         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

catching  on  the  snags  and  stubs  ;  and  where 
a  grove  of  thick-growing  young  spruces  or  a 
balsams  had  been  burned,  the  stiff  and  brittle 
twigs  pricked  like  so  much  coral.  Most 
difficult  of  all  were  the  dry  water-courses, 
choked  with  alders,  where  the  intertwined 
tangle  of  tough  stems  formed  an  almost  liter- 
ally impenetrable  barrier  to  our  progress. 
Nearly  every  movement — leaping,  climbing, 
swinging  one's  self  up  with  one's  hands,  burst- 
ing through  stiff  bushes,  plunging  into  and 
out  of  bogs — was  one  of  strain  and  exertion  ; 
the  fatigue  was  tremendous,  and  steadily  con- 
tinued, so  that  in  an  hour  every  particle  of 
clothing  I  had  on  was  wringing  wet  with  sweat. 

At  noon  we  halted  beside  a  little  brook  for 
a  bite  of  lunch — a  chunk  of  cold  frying-pan 
bread,  which  was  all  we  had. 

While  at  lunch  I  made  a  capture.  I  was 
sitting  on  a  great  stone  by  the  edge  of  the 
brook,  idly  gazing  at  a  water-wren  which  had 
come  up  from  a  short  flight — I  can  call  it 
nothing  else — underneath  the  water,  and  was 
singing  sweetly  from  a  spray-splashed  log. 
Suddenly  a  small  animal  swam  across  the  little 
pool  at  my  feet.  It  was  less  in  size  than  a 
mouse,  and  as  it  paddled  rapidly  underneath 
the  water  its  body  seemed  flattened  like  a 
disc  and  was  spangled  with  tiny  bubbles,  like 
specks  of  silver.  It  was  a  water-shrew,  a 
rare  little  beast.  I  sat  motionless  and  watched 
both  the  shrew  and  the  water-wren — water- 
ousel,  as  it  should  rightly  be  named.  The 
latter,  emboldened  by  my  quiet,  presently  flew 
by  me  to  a  little  rapids  close  at  hand,  light- 
ingon  a  round  stone,  and  then  slipping  uiv 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        155 

concernedly  into  the  swift  water.  Anon  he 
emerged,  stood  on  another  stone,  and  trilled 
a  few  bars,  though  it  was  late  in  the  season 
for  singing;  and  then  dove  again  into  the 
stream.  I  gazed  at  him  eagerly;  for  this 
strange,  pretty  water-thrush  is  to  me  one  of 
the  most  attractive  and  interesting  birds  to  be 
found  in  the  gorges  of  the  great  Rockies.  Its 
haunts  are  romantically  beautiful,  for  it  always 
dwells  beside  and  in  the  swift-flowing  mount- 
ain brooks;  it  has  a  singularly  sweet  song; 
and  its  ways  render  it  a  marked  bird  at  once, 
for  though  looking  much  like  a  sober-colored, 
ordinary  woodland  thrush,  it  spends  half  its 
time  under  the  water,  walking  along  the  bot- 
tom, swimming  and  diving,  and  flitting  through 
as  well  as  over  the  cataracts. 

In  a  minute  or  two  the  shrew  caught  my 
eye  again.  It  got  into  a  little  shallow  eddy 
and  caught  a  minute  fish,,  which  it  carried  to 
a  half-sunken  stone  and  greedily  devoured, 
tugging  voraciously  at  it  as  it  held  it  down 
with  its  paws.  Then  its  evil  genius  drove 
it  into  a  small  puddle  alongside  the  brook, 
where  I  instantly  pounced  on  and  slew  it ;  for 
I  knew  a  friend  in  the  Smithsonian  at  Wash- 
ington who  would  have  coveted  it  greatly. 
It  was  a  soft,  pretty  creature,  dark  above, 
snow-white  below,  with  a  very  long  tail.  I 
turned  the  skin  inside  out  and  put  a  bent 
twig  in,  that  it  might  dry ;  while  Ammal,  who 
had  been  intensely  interested  in  the  chase  and 
capture,  meditatively  shook  his  head  and 
said  "wagh,"  unable  to  fathom  the  white 
man's  medicine.  However,  my  labor  came  to 
nought,  for  that  evening  I  laid  the  skin  out  on 


156         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

a  log,  Ammal  threw  the  log  into  the  fire,  and 
that  was  the  end  of  the  shrew. 

When  this  interlude  was  over  we  resumed 
our  march,  toiling  silently  onwards  through 
the  wild  and  rugged  country.  Towards  even- 
ing the  valley  widened  a  little,  and  we  were 
able  to  walk  in  the  bottoms,  which  much 
lightened  our  labor.  The  hunter,  for  greater 
ease,  had  tied  the  thongs  of  his  heavy  pack 
across  his  breast,  so  that  he  could  not  use  his 
rifle ;  but  my  pack  was  lighter,  and  I  carried 
it  in  a  manner  that  would  not  interfere  with 
my  shooting,  lest  we  should  come  unawares 
on  game. 

It  was  well  that  I  did  so.  An  hour  or  two 
before  sunset  we  were  travelling,  as  usual,  in 
Indian  file,  beside  the  stream,  through  an 
open  wood  of  great  hemlock  trees.  There 
was  no  breeze,  and  we  made  no  sound  as  we 
marched,  for  our  feet  sunk  noiselessly  into 
the  deep  sponge  of  moss,  while  the  incessant 
dashing  of  the  torrent,  churning  among  the 
stones,  would  have  drowned  a  far  louder 
advance. 

Suddenly  the  hunter,  who  was  leading, 
dropped  down  in  his  tracks,  pointing  forward  ; 
and  some  fifty  feet  beyond  I  saw  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  a  bear  as  he  rose  to  make  a 
sweep  at  some  berries.  He  was  in  a  hollow 
where  a  tall,  rank,  prickly  plant,  with  broad 
leaves,  grew  luxuriantly ;  and  he  was  gather- 
ing its  red  berries,  rising  on  his  hind  legs  and 
sweeping  them  down  into  his  mouth  with  his 
paw,  and  was  much  too  intent  on  his  work  to 
notice  us,  for  his  head  was  pointed  the  other 
way.  The  moment  he  rose  again  I  fired, 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.       157 

meaning  to  shoot  through  the  shoulders,  but 
instead,  in  the  hurry,  taking  him  in  the  neck. 
Down  he  went,  but  whether  hurt  or  not  we 
could  not  see,  for  the  second  he  was  on  all 
fours  he  was  no  longer  visible.  Rather  to  my 
surprise  he  uttered  no  sound — for  bear  when 
hit  or  when  charging  often  make  a  great  noise — 
so  I  raced  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  hollow, 
the  hunter  close  behind  me,  while  Ammal 
danced  about  in  the  rear,  very  much  excited, 
as  Indians  always  are  in  the  presence  of  big 
game.  The  instant  we  reached  the  hollow 
and  looked  down  into  it  from  the  low  bank  on 
which  we  stood  we  saw  by  the  swaying  of  the 
tall  plants  that  the  bear  was  coming  our  way. 
The  hunter  was  standing  some  ten  feet  dis- 
tant, a  hemlock  trunk  being  between  us  ; 
and  the  next  moment  the  bear  sprang  clean 
up  the  bank  the  other  side  of  the  hemlock, 
and  almost  within  arm's  length  of  my  com- 
panion. I  do  not  think  he  had  intended  to 
charge ;  he  was  probably  confused  by  the 
bullet  through  his  neck,  and  had  by  chance 
blundered  out  of  the  hollow  in  our  direction  ; 
but  when  he  saw  the  hunter  so  close  he 
turned  for  him,  his  hair  bristling  and  his  teeth 
showing.  The  man  had  no  cartridge  in  his 
weapon,  and  with  his  pack  on  could  not  have 
used  it  anyhow  ;  and  for  a  moment  it  looked 
as  if  he  stood  a  fair  chance  of  being  hurt, 
though  it  is  not  likely  that  the  bear  would 
have  done  more  than  knock  him  down  with 
his  powerful  forepaw,  or  perchance  give  him 
a  single  bite  in  passing.  However,  as  the 
beast  sprang  out  of  the  hollow  he  poised  for 
a  second  on  the  edge  of  the  bank  to  recover 


158        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

his  balance,  giving  me  a  beautiful  shot,  as  he 
stood  sideways  to  me ;  the  bullet  struck  be- 
tween the  eye  and  ear,  and  he  fell  as  if  hit 
with  a  pole  axe. 

Immediately  the  Indian  began  jumping 
about  the  body,  uttering  wild  yells,  his  usually 
impassive  face  lit  up  with  excitement,  while 
the  hunter  and  I  stood  at  rest,  leaning  on  our 
rifles  and  laughing.  It  was  a  strange  scene, 
the  dead  bear  lying  in  the  shade  of  the  giant 
hemlocks,  while  the  fantastic-looking  savage 
danced  round  him  with  shrill  whoops,  and  the 
tall  frontiersman  looked  quietly  on. 

Our  prize  was  a  large  black  bear,  with  two 
curious  brown  streaks  down  his  back,  one  on 
each  side  the  spine.  We  skinned  him  and 
camped  by  the  carcass,  as  it  was  growing 
late.  To  take  the  chill  off  the  evening  air 
we  built  a  huge  fire,  the  logs  roaring  and 
crackling.  To  one  side  of  it  we  made  our 
beds — of  balsam  and  hemlock  boughs ;  we 
did  not  build  a  brush  lean-to,  because  the 
night  seemed  likely  to  be  clear.  Then  we 
supped  on  sugarless  tea,  frying-pan  bread, 
and  quantities  of  bear  meat,  fried  or  roasted 
— and  how  very  good  it  tasted  only  those 
know  who  have  gone  through  much  hardship 
and  some  little  hunger,  and  have  worked 
violently  for  several  days  without  flesh  food. 
After  eating  our  fill  we  stretched  ourselves 
around  the  fire ;  the  leaping  sheets  of  flame 
lit  the  tree-trunks  round  about,  causing  them 
to  start  out  against  the  cavernous  blackness 
beyond,  and  reddened  the  interlacing  branches 
that  formed  a  canopy  overhead.  The  Indian 
sat  on  his  haunches,  gazing  steadily  and 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        159 

silently  into  the  pile  of  blazing  logs,  while 
the  white  hunter  and  I  talked  together. 

The  morning  after  killing  Bruin,  we  again 
took  up  our  march,  heading  up  stream,  that 
we  might  go  to  its  sources  amidst  the  mount- 
ains, where  the  snow  fields  fed  its  springs. 
It  was  two  full  days'  journey  thither,  but  we 
took  much  longer  to  make  it,  as  we  kept 
halting  to  hunt  the  adjoining  mountains.  On 
such  occasions  Animal  was  left  as  camp 
guard,  while  the  white  hunter  and  I  would 
start  by  daybreak  and  return  at  dark  utterly 
worn  out  by  the  excessive  fatigue.  We  knew 
nothing  of  caribou,  nor  where  to  hunt  for 
them ;  and  we  had  been  told  that  thus  early 
in  the  season  they  were  above  tree  limit  on 
the  mountain  sides.  Accordingly  we  would 
climb  up  to  the  limits  of  the  forests,  but 
never  found  a  caribou  trail ;  and  once  or 
twice  we  went  on  to  the  summits  of  the  crag- 
peaks,  and  across  the  deep  snow  fields  in  the 
passes.  There  were  plenty  of  white  goats, 
however,  their  trails  being  broad  paths,  es- 
pecially at  one  spot  where  they  led  down  to 
a  lick  in  the  valley  ;  round  the  lick,  for  a 
space  of  many  yards,  the  ground  was  trampled 
as  if  in  a  sheepfold. 

The  mountains  were  very  steep,  and  the 
climbing  was  in  places  dangerous,  when  we 
were  above  the  timber  and  had  to  make  our 
way  along  the  jagged  knife-crests  and  across 
the  faces  of  the  cliffs  ;  while  our  hearts  beat 
as  if  about  to  burst  in  the  high,  thin  air.  In 
walking  over  rough  but  not  dangerous  ground 
— across  slides  or  in  thick  timber — my  com- 
panion was  far  more  skilful  than  I  was  ;  but 

3—6 


160        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

rather  to  my  surprise  I  proved  to  be  nearly  as 
good  as  he  when  we  came  to  the  really  dan- 
gerous places,  where  we  had  to  go  slowly,  and 
let  one  another  down  from  ledge  to  ledge,  or 
crawl  by  narrow  cracks  across  the  rock  walls. 
The  view  from  the  summits  was  magnifi- 
cent, and  I  never  tired  of  gazing  at  it.  Some- 
times the  sky  was  a  dome  of  blue  crystal,  and 
mountain,  lake,  and  valley  lay  spread  in 
startling  clearness  at  our  very  feet ;  and  again 
snow-peak  and  rock-peak  were  thrust  up  like 
islands  through  a  sea  of  billowy  clouds.  At 
the  feet  of  the  topmost  peaks,  just  above  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  were  marshy  alpine  valleys, 
the  boggy  ground  soaked  with  water,  and 
small  bushes  or  stunted  trees  fringing  the  icy 
lakes.  In  the  stony  mountain  sides  surround- 
ing these  lakes  there  were  hoary  woodchucks, 
and  conies.  The  former  resembled  in  their 
habits  the  alpine  marmot,  rather  than  our 
own  common  eastern  woodchuck.  They 
lived  alone  -or  in  couples  among  the  rocks, 
their  gray  color  often  making  them  difficult  to 
see  as  they  crouched  at  the  mouths  of  their 
burrows,  or  sat  bolt  upright;  and  as  an 
alarm  note  they  uttered  a  loud  piercing 
whistle,  a  strong  contrast  to  the  querulous, 
plaintive  "  p^a-a-y "  of  the  timid  conies. 
These  likewise  loved  to  dwell  where  the 
stones  and  slabs  of  rock  were  heaped  on  one 
another;  though  so  timid,  they  were  not 
nearly  as  wary  as  the  woodchucks.  If  we 
stood  quite  still  the  little  brown  creatures 
would  venture  away  from  their  holes  and  hop 
softly  over  the  rocks  as  if  we  were  not 
present. 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        161 

The  white  goats  were  too  musky  to  eat,  and 
we  saw  nothing  else  to  shoot ;  so  we  speedily 
became  reduced  to  tea,  and  to  bread  baked 
in  the  frying-pan,  save  every  now  and  then  for 
a  feast  on  the  luscious  mountain  blueberries. 
This  rather  meagre  diet,  coupled  with  inces- 
sant fatigue  and  exertion,  made  us  fairly  long 
for  meat  food  ;  and  we  fell  off  in  flesh,  though 
of  course  in  so  short  a  time  we  did  not  suffer 
in  either  health  or  strength.  Fortunately  the 
nights  were  too  cool  for  mosquitoes  ;  but  once 
or  twice  in  the  afternoons,  while  descending 
the  lower  slopes  of  the  mountains,  we  were 
much  bothered  by  swarms  of  gnats  ;  they 
worried  us  greatly,  usually  attacking  us  at  a 
time  when  we  had  to  go  fast  in  order  to  reach 
camp  before  dark,  while  the  roughness  of  the 
ground  forced  us  to  use  both  hands  in  climb- 
ing, and  thus  forbade  us  to  shield  our  faces 
from  our  tiny  tormentors.  Our  chief  luxury 
was,  at  the  end  of  the  day,  when  footsore  and 
weary,  to  cast  aside  our  sweat-drenched  clothes 
and  plunge  into  the  icy  mountain  torrent  for 
a  moment's  bath  that  freshened  us  as  if  by 
magic.  The  nights  were  generally  pleasant, 
and  we  slept  soundly  on  our  beds  of  balsam 
boughs,  but  once  or  twice  there  were  sharp 
frosts,  and  it  was  so  cold  that  the  hunter  and 
I  huddled  together  for  warmth  and  kept  the 
fires  going  till  morning.  One  day,  when  we 
were  on  the  march,  it  rained  heavily,  and  we 
were  soaked  through,  and  stiff  and  chilly  when 
we  pitched  camp  ;  but  we  speedily  built  a 
great  brush  lean-to,  made  a  roaring  fire  in 
front,  and  grew  once  more  to  warmth  and 
comfort  as  we  sat  under  our  steaming  shelter. 
ii 


1 62         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

The  only  discomfort  we  really  minded  was  an 
occasional  night  in  wet  blankets. 

In  the  evening  the  Indian  and  the  white 
hunter  played  interminable  games  of  seven-up 
with  a  greasy  pack  of  cards.  In  the  course 
of  his  varied  life  the  hunter  had  been  a  pro- 
fessional gambler  ;  and  he  could  have  easily 
won  all  the  Indian's  money,  the  more  speedily 
inasmuch  as  the  untutored  red  man  was 
always  attempting  to  cheat,  and  was  thus 
giving  his  far  more  skilful  opponent  a  certain 
right  to  try  some  similar  deviltry  in  return. 
However,  it  was  distinctly  understood  that 
there  should  be  no  gambling,  for  I  did  not 
wish  Ammal  to  lose  all  his  wages  while  in  my 
employ ;  and  the  white  man  stood  loyally  by 
his  agreement.  Animal's  people,  just  before 
I  engaged  him,  had  been  visited  by  their 
brethren,  the  Upper  Kootenais,  and  in  a  series 
of  gambling  matches  had  lost  about  all  their 
belongings. 

Ammal  himself  was  one  of  the  Lower  Koot- 
enais ;  I  had  hired  him  for  the  trip,  as  the 
Indians  west  of  the  Rockies,  unlike  their 
kinsmen  of  the  plains,  often  prove  hard  and 
willing  workers.  His  knowledge  of  English 
was  almost  nil ;  and  our  very  scanty  conver- 
sation was  carried  on  in  the  Chinook  jargon, 
universally  employed  between  the  mountains 
and  the  Pacific.  Apparently  he  had  three 
names  :  for  he  assured  us  that  his  "  Boston  " 
(/.  e.,  American)  name  was  Ammal ;  his 
"  Siwash  "  (/.  <?.,  Indian)  name  was  Appak ; 
and  that  the  priest  called  him  Abel — for  the 
Lower  Kootenais  are  nominally  Catholics. 
Whatever  his  name  he  was  a  good  Indian,  as 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        163 

Indians  go.  I  often  tried  to  talk  with  him 
about  game  and  hunting,  but  we  understood 
each  other  too  little  to  exchange  more  than 
the  most  rudimentary  ideas.  His  face  bright- 
ened one  night  when  I  happened  to  tell  him 
of  my  baby  boys  at  home ;  he  must  have  been 
an  affectionate  father  in  his  way,  this  dark 
Ammal,  for  he  at  once  proceeded  to  tell  me 
about  his  own  papoose,  who  had  also  seen 
one  snow,  and  to  describe  how  the  little  fellow 
was  old  enough  to  take  one  step  and  then  fall 
down.  But  he  never  displayed  so  much 
vivacity  as  on  one  occasion  when  the  white 
hunter  happened  to  relate  to  him  a  rather 
gruesome  feat  of  one  of  their  mutual  acquaint- 
ances, an  Upper  Kootenai  Indian  named 
Three  Coyotes.  The  latter  was  a  quarrelsome, 
adventurous  Indian,  with  whom  the  hunter 
had  once  had  a  difficulty — "I  had  to  beat 
the  cuss  over  the  head  with  my  gun  a  little,* 
he  remarked  parenthetically.  His  last  feat 
had  been  done  in  connection  with  a  number 
of  Chinamen  who  had  been  working  among 
some  placer  mines,  where  the  Indians  came  to 
visit  them.  Now  the  astute  Chinese  are  as 
fond  of  gambling  as  any  of  the  borderers, 
white  or  red,  and  are  very  successful,  generally 
fleecing  the  Indians  unmercifully.  Three 
Coyotes  lost  all  he  possessed  to  one  of  the 
pigtailed  gentry ;  but  he  apparently  took  his 
losses  philosophically,  and  pleasantly  followed 
the  victor  round,  until  the  latter  had  won 
all  the  cash  and  goods  of  several  other  In- 
dians. Then  he  suddenly  fell  on  the  exile 
from  the  Celestial  Empire,  slew  him  and  took 
all  his  plunder,  retiring  unmolested,  as  it  did 


1 64        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

not  seem  any  one's  business  to  avenge  a  mere 
Chinaman.  Ammal  was  immensely  interest- 
ed in  the  tale,  and  kept  recurring  to  it  again 
and  again,  taking  two  little  sticks  and  making 
the  hunter  act  out  the  whole  story.  The 
Kootenais  were  then  only  just  beginning  to 
consider  the  Chinese  as  human.  They  knew 
they  must  not  kill  white  people,  and  they  had 
their  own  code  of  morality  among  themselves ; 
but  when  the  Chinese  first  appeared  they  evi- 
dently thought  that  there  could  not  be  any 
especial  objection  to  killing  them,  if  any 
reason  arose  for  doing  so.  I  think  the  hunter 
himself  sympathized  somewhat  with  this  view. 

Ammal  objected  strongly  to  leaving  the 
neighborhood  of  the  lake.  He  went  the  first 
day's  journey  willingly  enough,  but  after  that 
it  was  increasingly  difficult  to  get  him  along, 
and  he  gradually  grew  sulky.  For  some  time 
we  could  not  find  out  the  reason  ;  but  finally 
he  gave  us  to  understand  that  he  was  afraid 
because  up  in  the  high  mountains  there  were 
"  little  bad  Indians "  who  would  kill  him  if 
they  caught  him  alone,  especially  at  night. 
At  first  we  thought  he  was  speaking  of  stray 
warriors  of  the  Blackfeet  tribe ;  but  it  turned 
out  that  he  was  not  thinking  of  human  beings 
at  all,  but  of  hobgoblins. 

Indeed  the  night  sounds  of  these  great 
stretches  of  mountain  woodland  were  very 
weird  and  strange.  Though  I  have  often  and 
for  long  periods  dwelt  and  hunted  in  the 
wilderness,  yet  I  never  before  so  well  under- 
stood why  the  people  who  live  in  lonely  forest 
regions  are  prone  to  believe  in  elves,  wood 
spirits,  and  other  beings  of  an  unseen  world. 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.       165 

Our  last  camp,  whereat  we  spent  several  days, 
was  pitched  in  a  deep  valley  nearly  at  the 
head  of  the  stream.  Our  brush  shelter  stood 
among  the  tall  coniferous  trees  that  covered 
the  valley  bottom ;  but  the  altitude  w^s  so 
great  that  the  forest  extended  only  a  very 
short  distance  up  the  steep  mountain  slopes. 
Beyond,  on  either  hand,  rose  walls  of  gray 
rock,  with  snow  beds  in  their  rifts,  and,  high 
above,  toward  the  snow  peaks,  the  great  white 
fields  dazzled  the  eyes.  The  torrent  foamed 
swiftly  by  but  a  short  distance  below  the 
mossy  level  space  on  which  we  had  built  our 
slight  weather-shield  of  pine  boughs ;  other 
streams  poured  into  it,  from  ravines  through 
which  they  leaped  down  the  mountain  sides. 

After  nightfall,  round  the  camp  fire,  or  if  I 
awakened  after  sleeping  a  little  while,  I  would 
often  lie  silently  for  many  minutes  together, 
listening  to  the  noises  of  the  wilderness.  At 
times  the  wind  moaned  harshly  through  the 
tops  of  the  tall  pines  and  hemlocks  ;  at  times 
the  branches  were  still ;  but  the  splashing 
murmur  of  the  torrent  never  ceased,  and 
through  it  came  other  sounds — the  clatter  of 
huge  rocks  falling  down  the  cliffs,  the  dashing 
of  cataracts  in  far-off  ravines,  the  hooting  of 
owls.  Again,  the  breeze  would  shift,  and 
bring  to  my  ears  the  ringing  of  other  brooks 
and  cataracts  and  wind-stirred  forests,  and 
perhaps  at  long  intervals  the  cry  of  some  wild 
beast,  the  crash  of  a  falling  tree,  or  the  faint 
rumble  of  a  snow  avalanche.  If  I  listened 
long  enough,  it  would  almost  seem  that  I 
heard  thunderous  voices  laughing  and  calling 
to  one  another,  and  as  if  at  any  moment  some 


1 66         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

shape  might  stalk  out  of  the  darkness  into  the 
dim  light  of  the  embers. 

Until  within  a  couple  of  days  of  turning  our 
faces  back  towards  the  lake  we  did  not  come 
across  any  caribou,  and  saw  but  a  few  old 
signs ;  and  we  began  to  be  fearful  lest  we 
should  have  to  return  without  getting  any,  for 
our  shoes  had  been  cut  to  ribbons  by  the 
sharp  rocks,  we  were  almost  out  of  flour,  and 
therefore  had  but  little  to  eat.  However,  our 
perseverance  was  destined  to  be  rewarded. 

The  first  day  after  reaching  our  final  camp, 
we  hunted  across  a  set  of  spurs  and  hollows 
but  saw  nothing  living ;  yet  we  came  across 
several  bear  tracks,  and  in  a  deep,  mossy 
quagmire,  by  a  spring,  found  where  a  huge 
silver-tip  had  wallowed  only  the  night  before. 

Next  day  we  started  early,  determined  to 
take  a  long  walk  and  follow  the  main  stream 
up  to  its  head,  or  at  least  above  timber  line. 
The  hunter  struck  so  brisk  a  pace,  plunging 
through  thickets  and  leaping  from  log  to  log 
in  the  slashes  of  fallen  timber,  and  from 
boulder  to  boulder  in  crossing  the  rock-slides, 
that  I  could  hardly  keep  up  to  him,  struggle 
as  I  would,  and  we  each  of  us  got  several  ugly 
tumbles,  saving  our  rifles  at  the  expense  of 
scraped  hands  and  bruised  bodies.  We  went 
up  one  side  of  the  stream,  intending  to  come 
down  the  other;  for  the  forest  belt  was  nar- 
row enough  to  hunt  thoroughly.  For  two  or 
three  hours  we  toiled  through  dense  growth, 
varied  by  rock-slides,  and  once  or  twice  by 
marshy  tracts,  where  water  oozed  and  soaked 
through  the  mossy  hillsides,  studded  rather 
sparsely  with  evergreens.  In  one  of  these 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        167 

places  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  an  animal  which 
the  track  showed  to  be  a  wolverine. 

Then  we  came  to  a  spur  of  open  hemlock 
forest ;  and  no  sooner  had  we  entered  it  than 
the  hunter  stopped  and  pointed  exultingly  to 
a  well-marked  game  trail,  in  which  it  was  easy 
at  a  glance  to  discern  the  great  round  foot- 
prints of  our  quarry.  We  hunted  carefully 
over  the  spur  and  found  several  trails,  gener- 
ally leading  down  along  the  ridge ;  we  also 
found  a  number  of  beds,  some  old  and  some 
recent,  usually  placed  where  the  animal  could 
keep  a  lookout  for  any  foe  coming  up  from 
the  valley.  They  were  merely  slight  hollows 
or  indentations  in  the  pine-needles ;  and,  like 
the  game  trails,  were  placed  in  localities 
similar  to  those  that  would  be  chosen  by 
blacktail  deer.  The  caribou  droppings  were 
also  very  plentiful ;  and  there  were  signs  of 
where  they  had  browsed  on  the  blueberry 
bushes,  cropping  off  the  berries,  and  also  ap- 
parently of  where  they  had  here  and  there 
plucked  a  mouthful  of  a  peculiar  kind  of  moss, 
or  cropped  off  some  little  mushrooms.  But 
the  beasts  themselves  had  evidently  left  the 
hemlock  ridge,  and  we  went  on. 

We  were  much  pleased  at  finding  the  sign 
in  open  timber,  where  the  ground  was  excel- 
lent for  still-hunting  ;  for  in  such  thick  forest 
as  we  had  passed  through,  it  would  have  been 
by  mere  luck  only  that  we  could  have  ap- 
proached game. 

After  a  little  while  the  valley  became  so 
high  that  the  large  timber  ceased,  and  there 
were  only  occasional  groves  of  spindling  ever- 
greens. Beyond  the  edge  of  the  big  timber 

3 — 6  B 


1 68         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

was  a  large  boggy  tract,  studded  with  little 
pools ;  and  here  again  we  found  plenty  of 
caribou  tracks.  A  caribou  has  an  enormous 
foot,  bigger  than  a  cow's,  and  admirably 
adapted  for  travelling  over  snow  or  bogs ; 
hence  they  can  pass  through  places  where  the 
long  slender  hoofs  of  moose  or  deer,  or  the 
round  hoofs  of  elk,  would  let  their  own- 
ers sink  at  once  ;  and  they  are  very  difficult 
to  kill  by  following  on  snow-shoes — a  method 
much  in  vogue  among  the  brutal  game 
butchers  for  slaughtering  the  more  helpless 
animals.  Spreading  out  his  great  hoofs,  and 
bending  his  legs  till  he  walks  almost  on  the 
joints,  a  caribou  will  travel  swiftly  over  a 
crust  through  which  a  moose  breaks  at  every 
stride,  or  through  deep  snow  in  which  a  deer 
cannot  flounder  fifty  yards.  Usually  he  trots  ; 
but  when  pressed  he  will  spring  awkwardly 
along,  leaving  tracks  in  the  snow  almost  ex- 
actly like  magnified  imprints  of  those  of  a 
great  rabbit,  the  long  marks  of  the  two  hind 
legs  forming  an  angle  with  each  other,  while 
the  forefeet  make  a  large  point  almost  be- 
tween. 

The  caribou  had  wandered  all  over  the  bogs 
and  through  the  shallow  pools,  but  evidently 
only  at  night  or  in  the  dusk,  when  feeding  or 
in  coming  to  drink ;  and  we  again  went  on. 
Soon  the  timber  disappeared  almost  entirely, 
and  thick  brushwood  took  its  place  ;  we  were 
in  a  high,  bare  alpine  valley,  the  snow  lying 
in  drifts  along  the  sides.  In  places  there 
had  been  enormous  rock-slides,  entirely  filling 
up  the  bottom,  so  that  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
at  a  stretch  the  stream  ran  underground.  In 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        169 

the  rock  masses  of  this  alpine  valley  we,  as 
usual,  saw  many  conies  and  hoary  wood- 
chucks. 

The  caribou  trails  had  ceased,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  beasts  were  not  ahead  of  us 
in  the  barren,  treeless  recesses  between  the 
mountains  of  rock  and  snow  ;  and  we  turned 
back  down  the  valley,  crossing  over  to  the 
opposite  or  south  side  of  the  stream.  We 
had  already  eaten  our  scanty  lunch,  for  it  was 
afternoon.  For  several  miles  of  hard  walk- 
ing, through  thicket,  marsh,  and  rock-slide, 
we  saw  no  traces  of  the  game.  Then  we 
reached  the  forest,  which  soon  widened  out, 
and  crept  up  the  mountain  sides ;  and  we 
came  to  where  another  stream  entered  the 
one  we  were  following.  A  high,  steep  shoul- 
der between  the  two  valleys  was  covered  with 
an  open  growth  of  great  hemlock  timber,  and 
in  this  we  again  found  the  trails  and  beds 
plentiful.  There  was  no  breeze,  and  after 
beating  through  the  forest  nearly  to  its  upper 
edge,  we  began  to  go  down  the  ridge,  or  point 
of  the  shoulder.  The  comparative  freedom 
from  brushwood  made  it  easy  to  walk  without 
noise,  and  we  descended  the  steep  incline 
with  the  utmost  care,  scanning  every  object, 
and  using  every  caution  not  to  slip  on  the 
hemlock  needles,  nor  to  strike  a  stone  or  break 
a  stick  with  our  feet.  The  sign  was  very 
fresh,  and  when  still  half  a  mile  or  so  from 
the  bottom  we  at  last  came  on  three  bull 
caribou. 

Instantly  the  hunter  crouched  down,  while 
I  ran  noiselessly  forward  behind  the  shelter 
of  a  big  hemlock  trunk  until  within  fifty  yards 


170         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

of  the  grazing  and  unconscious  quarry.  They 
were  feeding  with  their  heads  up-hill,  but  so 
greedily  that  they  had  not  seen  us ;  and  they 
were  rather  difficult  to  see  themselves,  for 
their  bodies  harmonized  well  in  color  with  the 
brown  tree-trunks  and  lichen-covered  boulders. 
The  largest,  a  big  bull  with  a  good  but  by  no 
means  extraordinary  head,  was  nearest.  As 
he  stood  fronting  me  with  his  head  down  I 
fired  into  his  neck,  breaking  the  bone,  and  he 
turned  a  tremendous  back  somersault.  The 
other  two  halted  a  second  in  stunned  terror  ; 
then  one,  a  yearling,  rushed  past  us  up  the 
valley  down  which  we  had  come,  while  the 
other,  a  large  bull  with  small  antlers,  crossed 
right  in  front  of  me,  at  a  canter,  his  neck 
thrust  out,  and  his  head — so  coarse-looking 
compared  to  the  delicate  outlines  of  an  elk's 
— turned  towards  me.  His  movements  seemed 
clumsy  and  awkward,  utterly  unlike  those  of 
a  deer ;  but  he  handled  his  great  hoofs 
cleverly  enough,  and  broke  into  a  headlong, 
rattling  gallop  as  he  went  down  the  hillside, 
crashing  through  the  saplings  and  leaping 
over  the  fallen  logs.  There  was  a  spur  a  little 
beyond,  and  up  this  he  went  at  a  swinging 
trot,  halting  when  he  reached  the  top,  and 
turning  to  look  at  me  once  more.  He  was 
only  a  hundred  yards  away  ;  and  though  I 
had  not  intended  to  shoot  him  (for  his  head 
was  not  good),  the  temptation  was  sore  ;  and 
I  was  glad  when,  in  another  second,  the  stupid 
beast  turned  again  and  went  off  up  the  valley 
at  a  slashing  run. 

Then  we  hurried  down  to  examine  with  pride 
and  pleasure  the  dead  bull — his  massive  form, 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        171 

sleek  coat,  and  fine  antlers.  It  was  one  of 
those  moments  that  repay  the  hunter  for  days 
of  toil  and  hardship  ;  that  is  if  he  needs  re- 
payment, and  does  not  find  life  in  the  wilder- 
ness pleasure  enough  in  itself. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  if  we  expected  to 
reach  camp  that  night  it  behooved  us  not 
to  delay  ;  so  we  merely  halted  long  enough  to 
dress  the  caribou,  and  take  a  steak  with  us — 
which  we  did  not  need,  by  the  way,  for  almost 
immediately  we  came  on  a  band  of  spruce 
grouse  and  knocked  off  the  heads  of  five  with 
our  rifles.  The  caribou's  stomach  was  filled 
with  blueberries,  and  with  their  leaves,  and 
with  a  few  small  mushrooms  also,  and  some 
mouthf uls  of  moss.  We  went  home  very  fast, 
too  much  elated  to  heed  scratches  and  tum- 
bles ;  and  just  as  it  was  growing  so  dark  that 
further  travelling  was  impossible  we  came 
opposite  our  camp,  crossed  the  river  on  a  fal- 
len hemlock,  and  walked  up  to  the  moody 
Indian,  as  he  sat  crouched  by  the  fire. 

He  lost  his  sullenness  when  he  heard  what 
we  had  done  ;  and  next  day  we  all  went  up 
and  skinned  and  butchered  the  caribou,  re- 
turning to  camp  and  making  ready  to  start 
back  to  the  lake  the  following  morning  ;  and 
that  night  we  feasted  royally. 

We  were  off  by  dawn,  the  Indian  joyfully 
leading.  Coming  up  into  the  mountains  he 
had  always  been  the  rear  man  of  the  file  ;  but 
now  he  went  first  and  struck  a  pace  that,  con- 
tinued all  day  long,  gave  me  a  little  trouble  to 
follow.  Each  of  us  carried  his  pack  ;  to  the 
Indian's  share  fell  the  caribou  skull  and  ant- 
lers, which  he  bore  on  his  head.  At  the  end 


172         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

of  the  day  he  confessed  to  me  that  it  had 
made  his  head  "  heap  sick  " — as  well  it  might. 
We  had  made  four  short  days',  or  parts  of 
days'  march  coming  up  ;  for  we  had  stopped 
to  hunt,  and  moreover  we  knew  nothing  of 
the  country,  being  probably  the  first  white 
men  in  it,  while  none  of  the  Indians  had 
ever  ventured  a  long  distance  from  the 
lake.  Returning  we  knew  how  to  take  the 
shortest  route,  we  were  going  down  hill, 
and  we  walked  or  trotted  very  fast ;  and  so 
we  made  the  whole  distance  in  twelve  hours' 
travel.  At  sunset  we  came  out  on  the  last 
range  of  steep  foot-hills,  overlooking  the 
cove  where  we  had  pitched  our  permanent 
camp  ;  and  from  a  bare  cliff  shoulder  we  saw 
our  boat  on  the  beach,  and  our  white  tent 
among  the  trees,  just  as  we  had  left  them, 
while  the  glassy  mirror  of  the  lake  reflected 
the  outlines  of  the  mountains  opposite. 

Though  this  was  the  first  caribou  I  had 
ever  killed,  it  was  by  no  means  the  first  I  had 
ever  hunted.  Among  my  earliest  hunting  ex- 
periences, when  a  lad,  were  two  fruitless  and 
toilsome  expeditions  after  caribou  in  the 
Maine  woods.  One  I  made  in  the  fall,  going 
to  the  head  of  the  Munsungin  River  in  a 
pirogue,  with  one  companion.  The  water 
was  low,  and  all  the  way  up  we  had  to  drag 
the  pirogue,  wet  to  our  middles,  our  ankles 
sore  from  slipping  on  the  round  stones  under 
the  rushing  water,  and  our  muscles  aching 
with  fatigue.  When  we  reached  the  head- 
waters we  found  no  caribou  sign,  and  came 
back  without  slaying  anything  larger  than  an 
infrequent  duck  or  grouse. 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS,       173 

The  following  February  I  made  a  trip  on 
snow-shoes  after  the  same  game,  and  with  the 
same  result.  However,  I  enjoyed  the  trip,  for 
the  northland  woods  are  very  beautiful  and 
strange  in  winter,  as  indeed  they  are  at  all 
other  times — and  it  was  my  first  experience  on 
snow-shoes.  I  used  the  ordinary  webbed 
racquets,  and  as  the  snow,  though  very  deep, 
was  only  imperfectly  crusted,  I  found  that  for 
a  beginner  the  exercise  was  laborious  in  the 
extreme,  speedily  discovering  that,  no  matter 
how  cold  it  was,  while  walking  through  the 
windless  woods  I  stood  in  no  need  of  warm 
clothing.  But  at  night,  especially  when  lying 
out,  the  cold  was  bitter.  Our  plan  was  to 
drive  in  a  sleigh  to  some  logging  camp,  where 
we  were  always  received  with  hearty  hospital- 
ity, and  thence  make  hunting  trips,  in  very 
light  marching  order,  through  the  heart  of  the 
surrounding  forest.  The  woods,  wrapped  in 
their  heavy  white  mantle,  were  still  and  life- 
less. There  were  a  few  chickadees  and  wood- 
peckers ;  now  and  then  we  saw  flocks  of  red- 
polls, pine  linnets,  and  large,  rosy  grossbeaks  ; 
and  once  or  twice  I  came  across  a  grouse  or 
white  rabbit,  and  killed  it  for  supper  ;  but 
this  was  nearly  all.  Yet,  though  bird  life  was 
scarce,  and  though  we  saw  few  beasts  beyond 
an  occasional  porcupine  or  squirrel,  every 
morning  the  snow  was  dotted  with  a  network 
of  trails  made  during  the  hours  of  darkness ; 
the  fine  tracery  of  the  footprints  of  the  little 
red  wood-mouse,  the  marks  which  showed  the 
loping  progress  of  the  sable,  the  V  and  dot  of 
the  rabbit,  the  round  pads  of  the  lucivee,  and 
many  others.  The  snow  reveals,  as  nothing 


174        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

else  does,  the  presence  in  the  forest  of  the 
many  shy  woodland  creatures  which  lead 
their  lives  abroad  only  after  nightfall.  Once 
we  saw  a  coon,  out  early  after  its  winter  nap, 
and  following  I  shot  it  in  a  hollow  tree.  An- 
other time  we  came  on  a  deer  and  the  fright- 
ened beast  left  its  "  yard,"  a  tangle  of  beaten 
paths,  or  deep  furrows.  The  poor  animal 
made  but  slow  headway  through  the  powdery 
snow  ;  after  going  thirty  or  forty  rods  it  sank 
exhausted  in  a  deep  drift,  and  lay  there  in 
helpless  panic  as  we  walked  close  by.  Very 
different  were  the  actions  of  the  only  caribou 
we  saw — a  fine  beast  which  had  shed  its 
antlers.  I  merely  caught  a  glimpse  of  it  as  it 
leaped  over  a  breast-work  of  down  timbers ; 
and  we  never  saw  it  again.  Alternately  trot- 
ting and  making  a  succession  of  long  jumps, 
it  speedily  left  us  far  behind ;  with  its  great 
splay-hoofs  it  could  snow-shoe  better  than  we 
could.  It  is  among  deer  the  true  denizen  of 
the  regions  of  heavy  snowfall;  far  more  so 
than  the  moose.  Only  under  exceptional  con- 
ditions of  crust-formation  is  it  in  any  danger 
from  a  man  on  snow-shoes. 

In  other  ways  it  is  no  better  able  to  take 
care  of  itself  than  moose  and  deer ;  in  fact  I 
doubt  whether  its  senses  are  quite  as  acute,  or 
at  least  whether  it  is  as  wary  and  knowing,  for 
under  like  conditions  it  is  rather  easier  to 
still-hunt.  In  the  fall  caribou  wander  long 
distances,  and  are  fond  of  frequenting  the 
wet  barrens  which  break  the  expanse  of  the 
northern  forest  in  tracts  of  ever  increasing 
size  as  the  subarctic  regions  are  neared.  At 
this  time  they  go  in  bands,  each  under  the 


HUNTING  IN  THE  SELKIRKS.        175 

control  of  a  master  bull,  which  wages  repeated 
and  furious  battles  for  his  harem  ;  and  in  their 
ways  of  life  they  resemble  the  wapiti  more 
than  they  do  the  moose  or  deer.  They 
sometimes  display  a  curious  boldness,  the 
bulls  especially  showing  both  stupidity  and 
pugnacity  when  in  districts  to  which  men 
rarely  penetrate. 

On  our  way  out  of  the  woods,  after  this 
hunt,  there  was  a  slight  warm  spell,  followed 
by  rain  and  then  by  freezing  weather,  so  as  to 
bring  about  what  is  known  as  a  silver  thaw. 
Every  twig  was  sheathed  in  glittering  ice,  and 
in  the  moonlight  the  forest  gleamed  as  if 
carved  out  of  frosted  silver. 


176         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  WAPITI   OR   ROUND-HORNED  ELK. 

ONCE,  while  on  another  hunt  with  John 
Willis,  I  spent  a  week  in  a  vain  effort 
to  kill  moose  among  the  outlying  mountains 
at  the  southern  end  of  the  Bitter  Root  range. 
Then,  as  we  had  no  meat,  we  determined  to 
try  for  elk,  of  which  we  had  seen  much 
sign. 

We  were  camped  with  a  wagon,  as  high 
among  the  foot-hills  as  wheels  could  go,  but 
several  hours'  walk  from  the  range  of  the 
game ;  for  it  was  still  early  in  the  season,  and 
they  had  not  yet  come  down  from  the  upper 
slopes.  Accordingly  we  made  a  practice  of 
leaving  the  wagon  for  two  or  three  days  at  a 
time  to  hunt ;  returning  to  get  a  night's  rest 
in  the  tent,  preparatory  to  a  fresh  start.  On 
these  trips  we  carried  neither  blankets  nor 
packs,  as  the  walking  was  difficult  and  we  had 
much  ground  to  cover.  Each  merely  put  on 
his  jacket  with  a  loaf  of  frying-pan  bread  and 
a  paper  of  salt  stuffed  into  the  pockets.  We 
were  cumbered  with  nothing  save  our  rifles 
and  cartridges. 

On  the  morning  in  question  we  left  camp 
at  sunrise.  For  two  or  three  hours  we  walked 
up-hill  through  a  rather  open  growth  of  small 
pines  and  spruces,  the  travelling  being  easy. 


THE  WAPITI,  177 

Then  we  came  to  the  edge  of  a  deep  valley, 
a  couple  of  miles  across.  Into  this  we 
scrambled,  down  a  steep  slide,  where  the 
forest  had  grown  up  among  the  immense 
boulder  masses.  The  going  here  was  difficult 
to  a  degree  ;  the  great  rocks,  dead  timber, 
slippery  pine  needles,  and  loose  gravel  entail- 
ing caution  at  every  step,  while  we  had  to 
guard  our  rifles  carefully  from  the  conse- 
quences of  a  slip.  It  was  not  much  better  at 
the  bottom,  which  was  covered  by  a  tangled 
mass  of  swampy  forest.  Through  this  we 
hunted  carefully,  but  with  no  success,  in  spite 
of  our  toil ;  for  the  only  tracks  we  saw  that 
were  at  all  fresh  were  those  of  a  cow  and  calf 
moose.  Finally,  in  the  afternoon,  we  left  the 
valley  and  began  to  climb  a  steep  gorge,  down 
which  a  mountain  torrent  roared  and  foamed 
in  a  succession  of  cataracts. 

Three  hours'  hard  climbing  brought  us  to 
another  valley,  but  of  an  entirely  different 
character.  It  was  several  miles  long,  but  less 
than  a  mile  broad.  Save  at  the  mouth,  it  was 
walled  in  completely  by  chains  of  high  rock- 
peaks,  their  summits  snow-capped ;  the  forest 
extended  a  short  distance  up  their  sides.  The 
bottom  of  the  valley  was  in  places  covered  by 
open  woodland,  elsewhere  by  marshy  meadows, 
dotted  with  dense  groves  of  spruce. 

Hardly  had  we  entered  this  valley  before 
we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  yearling  elk  walk- 
ing rapidly  along  a  game  path  some  distance 
ahead.  We  followed  as  quickly  as  we  could 
without  making  a  noise,  but  after  the  first 
glimpse  never  saw  it  again  ;  for  it  is  astonish- 
ing how  fast  an  elk  travels,  with  its  ground- 
12 


178          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

covering  walk.  We  went  up  the  valley  until 
we  were  well  past  its  middle,  and  saw  abun- 
dance of  fresh  elk  sign.  Evidently  two  or 
three  bands  had  made  the  neighborhood  their 
headquarters.  Among  them  were  some  large 
bulls,  which  had  been  trying  their  horns  not 
only  on  the  quaking-asp  and  willow  saplings, 
but  also  on  one  another,  though  the  rut  had 
barely  begun.  By  one  pool  they  had  scooped 
out  a  kind  of  a  wallow  or  bare  spot  in  the  grass, 
and  had  torn  and  tramped  the  ground  with 
their  hoofs.  The  place  smelt  strongly  of  their 
urine. 

By  the  time  the  sun  set  we  were  sure  the 
elk  were  towards  the  head  of  the  valley.  We 
utilized  the  short  twilight  in  arranging  our 
sleeping  place  for  the  night,  choosing  a  thick 
grove  of  spruce  beside  a  small  mountain  tarn, 
at  the  foot  of  a  great  cliff.  We  were  chiefly 
influenced  in  our  choice  by  the  abundance  of 
dead  timber  of  a  size  easy  to  handle;  the  fuel 
question  being  all-important  on  such  a  trip, 
where  one  has  to  lie  out  without  bedding,  and 
to  keep  up  a  fire,  with  no  axe  to  cut  wood. 

Having  selected  a  smooth  spot,  where  some 
low-growing  firs  made  a  wind  break,  we  drag- 
ged up  enough  logs  to  feed  the  fire  through- 
out the  night.  Then  we  drank  our  fill  at  the 
icy  pool,  and  ate  a  few  mouthfuls  of  bread. 
While  it  was  still  light  we  heard  the  queru- 
lous bleat  of  the  conies,  from  among  the  slide 
rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  ;  and  the 
chipmunks  and  chickarees  scolded  at  us.  As 
dark  came  on,  and  we  sat  silently  gazing  into 
the  flickering  blaze,  the  owls  began  muttering 
and  hooting. 


THE  WAPITI.  179 

Clearing  the  ground  of  stones  and  sticks, 
we  lay  down  beside  the  fire,  pulled  our  soft 
felt  hats  over  our  ears,  buttoned  our  jackets, 
and  went  to  sleep.  Of  course  our  slumbers 
were  fitful  and  broken,  for  every  hour  or  two 
the  fire  got  low  and  had  to  be  replenished. 
We  wakened  shivering  out  of  each  spell  of 
restless  sleep  to  find  the  logs  smouldering ; 
we  were  alternately  scorched  and  frozen. 

As  the  first  faint  streak  of  dawn  appeared 
in  the  dark  sky  my  companion  touched  me 
lightly  on  the  arm.  The  fire  was  nearly  out ; 
we  felt  numbed  by  the  chill  air.  At  once  we 
sprang  up,  stretched  our  arms,  shook  our- 
selves, examined  our  rifles,  swallowed  a 
mouthful  or  two  of  bread,  and  walked  off 
through  the  gloomy  forest. 

At  first  we  could  scarcely  see  our  way,  but 
it  grew  rapidly  lighter.  The  gray  mist  rose 
and  wavered  over  the  pools  and  wet  places ; 
the  morning  voices  of  the  wilderness  began 
to  break  the  death-like  stillness.  After  we 
had  walked  a  couple  of  miles  the  mountain 
tops  on  our  right  hand  reddened  in  the  sun- 
rays. 

Then,  as  we  trod  noiselessly  over  the  dense 
moss,  and  on  the  pine  needles  under  the  scat- 
tered trees,  we  heard  a  sharp  clang  and  clatter 
up  the  valley  ahead  of  us.  We  knew  this 
meant  game  of  some  sort ;  and  stealing  lightly 
and  cautiously  forward  we  soon  saw  before  us 
the  cause  of  the  noise. 

In  a  little  glade,  a  hundred  and  twenty-five 
yards  from  us,  two  bull  elk  were  engaged  in 
deadly  combat,  while  two  others  were  looking 
on.  It  was  a  splendid  sight.  The  great 


180        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

beasts  faced  each  other  with  lowered  horns, 
the  manes  that  covered  their  thick  necks,  and 
the  hair  on  their  shoulders,  bristling  and  erect. 
Then  they  charged  furiously,  the  crash  of  the 
meeting  antlers  resounding  through  the  valley. 
The  shock  threw  them  both  on  their  haunches ; 
with  locked  horns  and  glaring  eyes  they  strove 
against  each  other,  getting  their  hind  legs 
well  under  them,  straining  every  muscle  in 
their  huge  bodies,  and  squealing  savagely. 
They  were  evenly  matched  in  weight,  strength, 
and  courage ;  and  push  as  they  might,  neither 
got  the  upper  hand,  first  one  yielding  a  few 
inches,  then  the  other,  while  they  swayed  to 
and  fro  in  their  struggles,  smashing  the  bushes 
and  ploughing  up  the  soil. 

Finally  they  separated  and  stood  some  little 
distance  apart,  under  the  great  pines  ;  their 
sides  heaving,  and  columns  of  steam  rising 
from  their  nostrils  through  the  frosty  air  of 
the  brightening  morning.  Again  they  rushed 
together  with  a  crash,  and  each  strove  mightily 
to  overthrow  the  other,  or  get  past  his  guard  ; 
but  the  branching  antlers  caught  every  vicious 
lunge  and  thrust.  This  set-to  was  stopped 
rather  curiously.  One  of  the  onlooking  elk 
was  a  yearling ;  the  other,  though  scarcely  as 
heavy-bodied  as  either  of  the  fighters,  had  a 
finer  head.  He  was  evidently  much  excited 
by  the  battle,  and  he  now  began  to  walk  to- 
wards the  two  combatants,  nodding  his  head 
and  uttering  a  queer,  whistling  noise.  They 
dared  not  leave  their  flanks  uncovered  to  his 
assault ;  and  as  he  approached  they  promptly 
separated,  and  walked  off  side  by  side  a  few 
yards  apart.  In  a  moment,  however,  one 


THE  WAPITI,  181 

spun  round  and  jumped  at  his  old  adversary, 
seeking  to  stab  him  in  his  unprotected  flank  ; 
but  the  latter  was  just  as  quick,  and  as  before 
caught  the  rush  on  his  horns.  They  closed 
as  furiously  as  ever ;  but  the  utmost  either 
could  do  was  to  inflict  one  or  two  punches  on 
the  neck  and  shoulders  of  his  foe,  where  the 
thick  hide  served  as  a  shield.  Again  the 
peace-maker  approached,  nodding  his  head, 
whistling,  and  threatening;  and  again  they 
separated. 

This  was  repeated  once  or  twice  ;  and  I 
began  to  be  afraid  lest  the  breeze  which  was 
very  light  and  puffy  should  shift  and  give 
them  my  wind.  So,  resting  my  rifle  on  my 
knee  I  fired  twice,  putting  one  bullet  behind 
the  shoulder  of  the  peace-maker,  and  the 
other  behind  the  shoulder  of  one  of  the  com- 
batants. Both  were  deadly  shots,  but,  as  so 
often  with  wapiti,  neither  of  the  wounded 
animals  at  the  moment  showed  any  signs  of 
being  hit.  The  yearling  ran  off  unscathed. 
The  other  three  crowded  together  and  trotted 
behind  some  spruce  on  the  left,  while  we  ran 
forward  for  another  shot.  In  a  moment  one 
fell ;  whereupon  the  remaining  two  turned 
and  came  back  across  the  glade,  trotting  to 
the  right.  As  we  opened  fire  they  broke  into 
a  lumbering  gallop,  but  were  both  downed 
before  they  got  out  of  sight  in  the  timber. 

As  soon  as  the  three  bulls  were  down  we 
busied  ourselves  taking  off  their  heads  and 
hides,  and  cutting  off  the  best  portions  of  the 
meat — from  the  saddles  and  hams — to  take 
back  to  camp,  where  we  smoked  it.  But  first 
we  had  breakfast.  We  kindled  a  fire  beside 


1 82         THE   WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

a  little  spring  of  clear  water  and  raked  out 
the  coals.  Then  we  cut  two  willow  twigs  as 
spits,  ran  on  each  a  number  of  small  pieces 
of  elk  loin,  and  roasted  them  over  the  fire. 
We  had  salt ;  we  were  very  hungry ;  and  I 
never  ate  anything  that  tasted  better. 

The  wapiti  is,  next  to  the  moose,  the  most 
quarrelsome  and  pugnacious  of  American 
deer.  It  cannot  be  said  that  it  is  ordinarily  a 
dangerous  beast  to  hunt ;  yet  there  are  in- 
stances in  which  wounded  wapiti,  incauti- 
ously approached  to  within  striking  distance, 
have  severely  misused  their  assailants,  both 
with  their  antlers  and  their  forefeet.  I  my- 
self knew  one  man  who  had  been  badly 
mauled  in  this  fashion.  When  tamed  the 
bulls  are  dangerous  to  human  life  in  the  rutting 
season.  In  a  grapple  they  are  of  course  in- 
finitely more  to  be  dreaded  than  ordinary 
deer,  because  of  their  great  strength. 

However,  the  fiercest  wapiti  bull,  when  in 
a  wild  state,  flees  the  neighborhood  of  man 
with  the  same  panic  terror  shown  by  the  cows  ; 
and  he  makes  no  stand  against  a  grisly, 
though  when  his  horns  are  grown  he  has  little 
fear  of  either  wolf  or  cougar  if  on  his  guard 
and  attacked  fairly.  The  chief  battles  of  the 
bulls  are  of  course  waged  with  one  another. 
Before  the  beginning  of  the  rut  they  keep  by 
themselves  :  singly,  while  the  sprouting  horns 
are  still  very  young,  at  which  time  they  lie  in 
secluded  spots  and  move  about  as  little  as 
possible ;  in  large  bands,  later  in  the  season. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  fall  these  bands  join 
with  one  another  and  with  the  bands  of  cows 
and  calves,  which  have  likewise  been  keeping 


THE   WAPITI.  :83 

to  themselves  during  the  late  winter,  the 
spring,  and  the  summer.  Vast  herds  are  thus 
sometimes  formed,  containing,  in  the  old  days 
when  wapiti  were  plenty,  thousands  of  head. 
The  bulls  now  begin  to  fight  furiously  with 
one  another,  and  the  great  herd  becomes  split 
into  smaller  ones.  Each  of  these  has  one 
master  bull,  who  has  won  his  position  by 
savage  battle,  and  keeps  it  by  overcoming 
every  rival,  whether  a  solitary  bull,  or  the 
lord  of  another  harem,  who  challenges  him. 
When  not  fighting  or  love-making  he  is  kept 
on  the  run,  chasing  away  the  young  bulls  who 
venture  to  pay  court  to  the  cows.  He  has 
hardly  time  to  eat  or  sleep,  and  soon  becomes 
gaunt  and  worn  to  a  degree.  At  the  close  of 
the  rut  many  of  the  bulls  become  so  emaciated 
that  they  retire  to  some  secluded  spot  to  re- 
cuperate. They  are  so  weak  that  they  readily 
succumb  to  the  elements,  or  to  their  brute 
foes ;  many  die  from  sheer  exhaustion. 

The  battles  between  the  bulls  rarely  result 
fatally.  After  a  longer  or  shorter  period  of 
charging,  pushing,  and  struggling  the  heavier 
or  more  enduring  of  the  two  begins  to  shove 
his  weaker  antagonist  back  and  round ;  and 
the  latter  then  watches  his  chance  and  bolts, 
hotly,  V>"t  as  r.  rule  harmlessly,  pursued  for  a 
few  hundred  yards.  The  massive  branching 
antlers  serve  as  effective  guards  against  the 
most  wicked  thrusts.  While  the  antagonists 
are  head  on,  the  worst  that  can  happen  is  a 
punch  on  the  shoulder  which  will  not  break 
the  thick  hide,  though  it  may  bruise  the  flesh 
underneath.  It  is  only  when  a  beast  is  caught 
while  turning  that  there  is  a  chance  to  deliver 


1 84       THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

a  possibly  deadly  stab  in  the  flank,  with  the 
brow  prongs,  the  "  dog-killers  "  as  they  are 
called  in  bucks.  Sometimes,  but  rarely,  fight- 
ing wapiti  get  their  antlers  interlocked  and 
perish  miserably  ;  my  own  ranch,  the  Elkhorn, 
was  named  from  finding  on  the  spot  where  the 
ranch  house  now  stands  two  splendid  pairs  of 
elk  antlers  thus  interlocked. 

Wapiti  keep  their  antlers  until  the  spring, 
whereas  deer  and  moose  lose  theirs  by  mid- 
winter. The  bull's  behavior  in  relation  to  the 
cow  is  merely  that  of  a  vicious  and  brutal 
coward.  He  bullies  her  continually,  and  in 
times  of  danger  his  one  thought  is  for  sneak- 
ing off  to  secure  his  own  safety.  For  all  his 
noble  looks  he  is  a  very  unamiable  beast,  who 
behaves  with  brutal  ferocity  to  the  weak,  and 
shows  abject  terror  of  the  strong.  According 
to  his  powers,  he  is  guilty  of  rape,  robbery, 
and  even  murder.  I  never  felt  the  least  com- 
punction at  shooting  a  bull,  but  I  hate  to 
shoot  a  cow,  even  when  forced  by  necessity. 
Maternity  must  always  appeal  to  any  one.  A 
cow  has  more  courage  than  a  bull.  She  will 
fight  valiantly  for  her  young  calf,  striking 
such  blows  with  her  forefeet  that  most  beasts 
of  prey  at  once  slink  away  from  the  combat. 
Cougars  and  wolves  commit  great  ravages 
among  the  bands ;  but  they  often  secure  their 
quarry  only  at  the  cost  of  sharp  preliminary 
tussles — and  in  tussles  of  this  kind  they  do 
not  always  prove  victors'  or  escape  scathless. 

During  the  rut  the  bulls  are  very  noisy; 
and  their  notes  of  amorous  challenge  are 
called  "  whistling  "  by  the  frontiersmen, — very 
inappropriately.  They  begin  to  whistle  about 


THE  WAPITI.  185 

ten  days  before  they  begin  to  run ;  and  they 
have  in  addition  an  odd  kind  of  bark,  which 
is  only  heard  occasionally.  The  whistling  is 
a  most  curious,  and  to  me  a  most  attractive 
sound,  when  heard  in  the  great  lonely  mount- 
ains. As  with  so  many  other  things,  much 
depends  upon  the  surroundings.  When  lis- 
tened to  nearby  and  under  unfavorable  cir- 
cumstances, the  sound  resembles  a  succession 
of  hoarse  whistling  roars,  ending  with  two  or 
three  gasping  grunts. 

But  heard  at  a  little  distance,  and  in  its 
proper  place,  the  call  of  the  wapiti  is  one  of 
the  grandest  and  most  beautiful  sounds  in 
nature.  Especially  is  this  the  case  when 
several  rivals  are  answering  one  another,  on 
some  frosty  moonlight  night  in  the  mountains. 
The  wild  melody  rings  from  chasm  to  chasm 
under  the  giant  pines,  sustained  and  modu- 
lated, through  bar  after  bar,  filled  with  chal- 
lenge and  proud  anger.  It  thrills  the  soul  of 
the  listening  hunter. 

Once,  while  in  the  mountains,  I  listened  to 
a  peculiarly  grand  chorus  of  this  kind.  We 
were  travelling  with  pack  ponies  at  the  time, 
and  our  tent  was  pitched  in  a  grove  of  yellow 
pine,  by  a  brook  in  the  bottom  of  a  valley. 
On  either  hand  rose  the  mountains,  covered 
with  spruce  forest.  It  was  in  September,  and 
the  first  snow  had  just  fallen. 

The  day  before  we  had  walked  long  and 
hard  ;  and  during  the  night  I  slept  the  heavy 
sleep  of  the  weary.  Early  in  the  morning, 
just  as  the  east  began  to  grow  gray,  I  waked ; 
and  as  I  did  so,  the  sounds  that  smote  on  my 
ear,  caused  me  to  sit  up  and  throw  off  the 


1 86         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

warm  blankets.  Bull  elk  were  challenging 
among  the  mountains  on  both  sides  of  the 
valley,  a  little  way  from  us,  their  notes  echo- 
ing like  the  calling  of  silver  bugles.  Groping 
about  in  the  dark,  I  drew  on  my  trousers,  an 
extra  pair  of  thick  socks,  and  my  moccasins, 
donned  a  warm  jacket,  found  my  fur  cap  and 
gloves,  and  stole  out  of  the  tent  with  my 
rifle. 

The  air  was  very  cold ;  the  stars  were  be- 
ginning to  pale  in  the  dawn  ;  on  the  ground 
the  snow  glimmered  white,  and  lay  in  feathery 
masses  on  the  branches  of  the  balsams  and 
young  pines.  The  air  rang  with  the  chal- 
lenges of  many  wapiti ;  their  incessant  calling 
came  pealing  down  through  the  still,  snow- 
laden  woods.  First  one  bull  challenged ; 
then  another  answered ;  then  another  and 
another.  Two  herds  were  approaching  one 
another  from  opposite  sides  of  the  valley,  a 
short  distance  above  our  camp ;  and  the 
master  bulls  were  roaring  defiance  as  they 
mustered  their  harems. 

I  walked  stealthily  up  the  valley,  until  I 
felt  that  I  was  nearly  between  the  two  herds  ; 
and  then  stood  motionless  under  a  tall  pine. 
The  ground  was  quite  open  at  this  point,  the 
pines,  though  large,  being  scattered ;  the 
little  brook  ran  with  a  strangled  murmur  be- 
tween its  rows  of  willows  and  alders,  for  the 
ice  along  its  edges  nearly  skimmed  its  breadth. 
The  stars  paled  rapidly,  the  gray  dawn 
brightened,  and  in  the  sky  overhead  faint 
rose-colored  streaks  were  turning  blood-red. 
What  little  wind  there  was  breathed  in  my 
face  and  kept  me  from  discovery. 


THE  WAPITI.  187 

I  made  up  my  mind,  from  the  sound  of  the 
challenging,  now  very  near  me,  that  one  bull 
on  my  right  was  advancing  towards  a  rival  on 
my  left,  who  was  answering  every  call.  Soon 
the  former  approached  so  near  that  I  could 
hear  him  crack  the  branches,  and  beat  the 
bushes  with  his  horns ;  and  I  slipped  quietly 
from  tree  to  tree,  so  as  to  meet  him  when  he 
came  out  into  the  more  open  woodland.  Day 
broke,  and  crimson  gleams  played  across  the 
snow-clad  mountains  beyond. 

At  last,  just  as  the  sun  flamed  red  above 
the  hill-tops,  I  heard  the  roar  of  the  wapiti's 
challenge  not  fifty  yards  away ;  and  I  cocked 
and  half  raised  my  rifle,  and  stood  motion- 
less. In  a  moment  more,  the  belt  of  spruces 
in  front  of  me  swayed  and  opened,  and  the 
lordly  bull  stepped  out.  He  bore  his  massive 
antlers  aloft ;  the  snow  lay  thick  on  his  mane ; 
he  snuffed  the  air  and  stamped  on  the  ground 
as  he  walked.  As  I  drew  a  bead,  the  motion 
caught  his  eye  ;  and  instantly  his  bearing  of 
haughty  and  warlike  self-confidence  changed 
to  one  of  alarm.  My  bullet  smote  through 
his  shoulder-blades,  and  he  plunged  wildly 
forward,  and  fell  full  length  on  the  blood- 
stained snow. 

Nothing  can  be  finer  than  a  wapiti  bull's 
carriage  when  excited  or  alarmed  ;  he  then 
seems  the  embodiment  of  strength  and  stately 
grace.  But  at  ordinary  times  his  looks  are 
less  attractive,  as  he  walks  with  his  neck  level 
with  his  body  and  his  head  outstretched,  his 
horns  lying  almost  on  his  shoulders.  The 
favorite  gait  of  the  wapiti  is  the  trot,  which  is 
very  fast,  and  which  they  can  keep  up  for 


1 88         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

countless  miles ;  when  suddenly  and  greatly 
alarmed,  they  break  into  an  awkward  gallop, 
which  is  faster,  but  which  speedily  tires  them. 

I  have  occasionally  killed  elk  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  my  ranch  on  the  Little  Missouri. 
They  were  very  plentiful  along  this  river  until 
1 88 1,  but  the  last  of  the  big  bands  were 
slaughtered  or  scattered  about  that  time. 
Smaller  bunches  were  found  for  two  or  three 
years  longer  ;  and  to  this  day,  scattered  indi- 
viduals, singly  or  in  parties  of  two  or  three, 
linger  here  and  there  in  the  most  remote  and 
inaccessible  parts  of  the  broken  country.  In 
the  old  times  they  were  often  found  on  the 
open  prairie,  and  were  fond  of  sunning  them- 
selves on  the  sand  bars  by  the  river,  even  at 
midday,  while  they  often  fed  by  daylight  (as 
they  do  still  in  remote  mountain  fastnesses). 
Nowadays  the  few  survivors  dwell  in  the  tim- 
ber of  the  roughest  ravines,  and  only  venture 
abroad  at  dusk  or  even  after  nightfall. 
Thanks  to  their  wariness  and  seclusiveness, 
their  presence  is  often  not  even  suspected  by 
the  cowboys  or  others  who  occasionally  ride 
through  their  haunts  ;  and  so  the  hunters  only 
know  vaguely  of  their  existence.  It  thus  hap- 
pens that  the  last  individuals  of  a  species 
may  linger  in  a  locality  for  many  years  after 
the  rest  of  their  kind  have  vanished  ;  on  the 
Little  Missouri  to-day  every  elk  (as  in  the 
Rockies  every  buffalo)  killed  is  at  once  set 
down  as  "the  last  of  its  race."  For  several 
years  in  succession  I  myself  kept  killing  one 
or  two  such  "  last  survivors." 

A  yearling  bull  which  I  thus  obtained  was 
killed  while  in  company  with  my  staunch 


THE  WAPITI.  189 

friend  Will  Dow,  on  one  of  the  first  trips 
which  I  took  with  that  prince  of  drivers,  old 
man  Tompkins.  We  were  laying  in  our  stock 
of  winter  meat ;  and  had  taken  the  wagon  to 
go  to  a  knot  of  high  and  very  rugged  hills 
where  we  knew  there  were  deer,  and  thought 
there  might  be  elk.  Old  Tompkins  drove 
the  wagon  with  unmoved  composure  up,  down, 
and  across  frightful-looking  hills,  and  when 
they  became  wholly  impassable,  steered  the 
team  over  a  cut  bank  and  up  a  kind  of  winding 
ravine  or  wooded  washout,  until  it  became  too 
rough  and  narrow  for  farther  progress.  There 
was  good  grass  for  the  horses  on  a  hill  off  to  one 
side  of  us;  and  stunted  cottonwood  trees  grew 
between  the  straight  white  walls  of  clay  and 
sandstone  which  hemmed  in  the  washout.  We 
pitched  our  tent  by  a  little  trickling  spring 
and  kindled  a  great  fire,  the  fitful  glare  light- 
ing the  bare  cliffs  and  the  queer,  sprawling 
tops  of  the  cottonwoods ;  and  after  a  dinner 
of  fried  prairie-chicken  went  to  bed.  At  dawn 
we  were  off,  and  hunted  till  nearly  noon  ;  when 
Dow,  who  had  been  walking  to  one  side,  beck- 
oned to  me  and  remarked,  "  There's  some- 
thing mighty  big  in  the  timber  down  under  the 
cliff;  I  guess  it's  an  elk  "  (he  never  had  seen 
one  before)  ;  and  the  next  moment,  as  old 
Tompkins  expressed  it,  "  the  elk  came  bilin' 
out  of  the  coulie."  Old  Tompkins  had  a  rifle 
on  this  occasion  and  the  sight  of  game  always 
drove  him  crazy ;  as  I  aimed  I  heard  Dow 
telling  him  "  to  let  the  boss  do  the  shoot- 
ing "  ;  and  I  killed  the  elk  to  a  savage  inter- 
jectional  accompaniment  of  threats  delivered 
at  old  man  Tompkins  between  the  shots. 


190        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

Elk  are  sooner  killed  off  than  any  other  game 
save  buffalo,  but  this  is  due  to  their  size  and 
the  nature  of  the  ground  they  frequent  rather 
than  to  their  lack  of  shyness.  They  like  open 
woodland,  or  mountainous  park  country,  or  hills 
riven  by  timber  coulies ;  and  such  ground  is 
the  most  favorable  to  the  hunter,  and  the  most 
attractive  in  which  to  hunt.  On  the  other 
hand  moose,  for  instance,  live  in  such  dense 
cover  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  get  at  them  ; 
when  elk  are  driven  by  incessant  persecution 
to  take  refuge  in  similar  fastnesses  they  be- 
come almost  as  hard  to  kill.  In  fact,  in  this 
respect  the  elk  stands  to  the  moose  much  as 
the  blacktail  stands  to  the  whitetail.  The 
moose  and  whitetail  are  somewhat  warier 
than  the  elk  and  blacktail ;  but  it  is  the  nature 
of  the  ground  which  they  inhabit  that  tells 
most  in  their  favor.  On  the  other  hand,  as 
compared  to  the  blacktail,  it  is  only  the  elk's 
size  which  puts  it  at  a  disadvantage  in  the 
struggle  for  life  when  the  rifle-bearing  hunter 
appears  on  the  scene.  It  is  quite  as  shy  and 
difficult  to  approach  as  the  deer  ;  but  its  bulk 
renders  it  much  more  eagerly  hunted,  more 
readily  seen,  and  more  easily  hit.  Occa- 
sionally elk  suffer  from  fits  of  stupid  tameness 
or  equally  stupid  panic  ;  but  the  same  is  true 
of  blacktail.  In  two  or  three  instances,  I 
have  seen  elk  show  silly  ignorance  of  danger ; 
but  half  a  dozen  times  I  have  known  black- 
tail  behave  with  an  even  greater  degree  of 
stupid  familiarity. 

There  is  another  point  in  which  the  wapiti 
and  blacktail  agree  in  contrast  to  the  moose 
and  whitetail.  Both  the  latter  delight  in 


THE  WAPITI.  191 

water-lilies,  entering  the  ponds  to  find  them, 
and  feeding  on  them  greedily.  The  wapiti 
is  very  fond  of  wallowing  in  the  mud,  and  of 
bathing  in  pools  and  lakes  ;  but  as  a  rule  it 
shows  as  little  fondness  as  the  blacktail  for 
feeding  on  water-lilies-  or  other  aquatic 
plants. 

In  reading  of  the  European  red  deer,  which 
is  nothing  but  a  diminutive  wapiti,  we  often 
see  a  "  a  stag  of  ten  "  alluded  to  as  if  a  full- 
grown  monarch.  A  full-grown  wapiti  bull, 
however,  always  has  twelve,  and  may  have 
fourteen,  regular  normal  points  on  his  ant- 
lers, besides  irregular  additional  prongs  ;  and 
he  occasionally  has  ten  points  when  a  two- 
year-old,  as  I  have  myself  seen  with  calves 
captured  young  and  tamed.  The  calf  has  no 
horns.  The  yearling  carries  two  foot-long 
spikes,  sometimes  bifurcated,  so  as  to  make 
four  points.  The  two-year-old  often  has  six 
or  eight  points  on  his  antlers  ;  but  some- 
times ten,  although  they  are  always  small. 
The  three-year-old  has  eight  or  ten  points, 
while  his  body  may  be  nearly  as  large  as 
that  of  a  full-grown  animal.  The  four-year- 
old  is  normally  a  ten  or  twelve  pointer,  but  as 
yet  with  much  smaller  antlers  than  those  so 
proudly  borne  by  the  old  bulls. 

Frontiersmen  only  occasionally  distinguish 
the  prongs  by  name.  The  brow  and  bay 
points  are  called  dog-killers  or  war-tines  ;  the 
tray  is  known  simply  as  the  third  point ;  and 
the  most  characteristic  prong,  the  long  and 
massive  fourth,  is  now  and  then  called  the 
dagger-point;  the  others  being  known  as  the 
fifth  and  sixth. 


192         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

In  the  high  mountain  forest  into  which  the 
wapiti  has  been  driven,  the  large,  heavily 
furred  northern  lynx,  the  lucivee,  takes  the 
place  of  the  smaller,  thinner-haired  lynx  of 
the  plains  and  of  the  more  southern  districts, 
the  bobcat  or  wildcat.  On  the  Little  Missouri 
the  latter  is  the  common  form  ;  yet  I  have 
seen  a  lucivee  which  was  killed  there.  On 
Clarke's  Fork  of  the  Columbia  both  occur, 
the  lucivee  being  the  most  common.  They 
feed  chiefly  on  hares,  squirrels,  grouse,  fawns, 
etc. ;  and  the  lucivee,  at  least,  also  occasion- 
ally kills  foxes  and  coons,  and  has  in  its  turn 
to  dread  the  pounce  of  the  big  timber  wolf. 
Both  kinds  of  lynx  can  most  easily  be  killed 
with  dogs,  as  they  tree  quite  readily  when 
thus  pursued.  The  wildcat  is  often  followed 
on  horseback,  with  a  pack  of  hounds,  when 
the  country  is  favorable  ;  and  when  chased  in 
this  fashion  yields  excellent  sport.  The  skin 
of  both  these  lynxes  is  tender.  They  often 
maul  an  inexperienced  pack  quite  badly,  in- 
flicting severe  scratches  and  bites  on  any 
hound  which  has  just  resolution  enough  to 
come  to  close  quarters,  but  not  to  rush  in 
furiously  ;  but  a  big  fighting  dog  will  readily 
kill  either.  At  Thompson's  Falls  two  of 
Willis'  hounds  killed  a  lucivee  unaided,  though 
one  got  torn.  Archibald  Rogers'  dog  Sly,  a 
cross  between  a  greyhound  and  a  bull  mastiff, 
killed  a  bobcat  single-handed.  He  bayed  the 
cat  and  then  began  to  threaten  it,  leaping  from 
side  to  side  ;  suddenly  he  broke  the  motion, 
and  rushing  in  got  his  foe  by  the  small  of  the 
back  and  killed  it  without  receiving  a  scratch. 

The  porcupine  is  sure  to  attract  the  notice 


THE  WAPITI.  193 

of  any  one  going  through  the  mountains.  It 
is  also  found  in  the  timber  belts  fringing  the 
streams  of  the  great  plains,  where  it  lives  for 
a  week  at  a  time  in  a  single  tree  or  clump  of 
trees,  peeling  the  bark  from  the  limbs.  But 
it  is  the  easiest  of  all  animals  to  exterminate, 
and  is  now  abundant  only  in  deep  mountain 
forests.  It  is  very  tame  and  stupid  ;  it  goes 
on  the  ground,  but  its  fastest  pace  is  a  clumsy 
waddle,  and  on  trees,  but  is  the  poorest  of 
tree-climbers, — grasping  the  trunk  like  a  small, 
slow  bear.  It  can  neither  escape  nor  hide. 
It  trusts  to  its  quills  for  protection,  as  the 
skunk  does  to  its  odor  ;  but  it  is  far  less  astute 
and  more  helpless  than  the  skunk.  It  is 
readily  made  into  a  very  unsuspicious  and 
familiar,  but  uninteresting,  pet.  I  have  known 
it  come  into  camp  in  the  daytime,  and  forage 
round  the  fire  by  which  I  was  sitting.  Its 
coat  protects  it  against  most  foes.  Bears 
sometimes  eat  it  when  very  hungry,  as  they 
will  eat  anything;  and  I  think  that  elk  oc- 
casionally destroy  it  in  sheer  wantonness. 
One  of  its  most  resolute  foes  is  the  fisher, 
that  big  sable — almost  a  wolverine — which 
preys  on  everything,  from  a  coon  to  a  fawn, 
or  even  a  small  fox. 

The  noisy,  active  little  chickarees  and  chip- 
munks, however,  are  by  far  the  most  numerous 
and  lively  denizens  of  these  deep  forests. 
They  are  very  abundant  and  very  noisy ; 
scolding  the  travellers  exactly  as  they  do  the 
bears  when  the  latter  dig  up  the  caches  of 
ants.  The  chipmunks  soon  grow  tame  and 
visit  camp  to  pick  up  the  crusts.  The  chick- 
arees often  ascend  to  the  highest  pine  tops, 
'3 


1 94        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

where  they  cut  off  the  cones,  dropping  them 
to  the  ground  with  a  noise  which  often  for  a 
moment  puzzles  the  still-hunter. 

Two  of  the  most  striking  and  characteristic 
birds  to  be  seen  by  him  who  hunts  and  camps 
among  the  pine-clad  and  spruce-clad  slopes 
of  the  northern  Rockies  are  a  small  crow  and 
a  rather  large  woodpecker.  The  former  is 
called  Clarke's  crow,  and  the  latter  Lewis' 
woodpecker.  Their  names  commemorate 
their  discoverers,  the  explorers  Lewis  and 
Clarke,  the  first  white  men  who  crossed  the 
United  States  to  the  Pacific,  the  pioneers  of 
that  great  army  of  adventurers  who  since  then 
have  roamed  and  hunted  over  the  Great  Plains 
and  among  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

These  birds  are  nearly  of  a  size,  being 
about  as  large  as  a  flicker.  The  Clarke's 
crow,  an  ash-colored  bird  with  black  wings 
and  white  tail  and  forehead,  is  as  common  as 
it  is  characteristic,  and  is  sure  to  attract 
attention.  It  is  as  knowing  as  the  rest  of  its 
race,  and  very  noisy  and  active.  It  flies  some- 
times in  a  straight  line,  with  regular  wing- 
beats,  sometimes  in  a  succession  of  loops  like 
a  woodpecker,  and  often  lights  on  rough  bark 
or  a  dead  stump  in  an  attitude  like  the  latter  ; 
and  it  is  very  fond  of  scrambling  and  cling- 
ing, often  head  downwards,  among  the  outer- 
most cones  on  the  top  of  a  pine,  chattering 
loudly  all  the  while.  One  of  the  noticeable 
features  of  its  flight  is  the  hollow,  beating 
sound  of  the  wings.  It  is  restless  and  fond 
of  company,  going  by  preference  in  small 
parties.  These  little  parties  often  indulge  in 
regular  plays,  assembling  in  some  tall  tree-top 


THE  WAPITI.  195 

and  sailing  round  and  round  it,  in  noisy  pur- 
suit of  one  another,  lighting  continually  among 
the  branches. 

The  Lewis'  woodpecker,  a  handsome,  dark- 
green  bird,  with  white  breast  and  red  belly,  is 
much  rarer,  quite  as  shy,  and  generally  less 
noisy  and  conspicuous.  Its  flight  is  usually 
strong  and  steady,  like  a  jay's,  and  it  perches 
upright  among  the  twigs,  or  takes  short  flights 
after  passing  insects,  as  often  as  it  scrambles 
over  the  twigs  in  the  ordinary  woodpecker 
fashion.  Like  its  companion,  the  Clarke's 
crow,  it  is  ordinarily  a  bird  on  the  high  tree- 
tops,  and  around  these  it  indulges  in  curious 
aerial  games,  again  like  those  of  the  little 
crow.  It  is  fond  of  going  in  troops,  and 
such  a  troop  frequently  choose  some  tall  pine 
and  soar  round  and  above  it  in  irregular 
spirals. 

The  remarkable  and  almost  amphibious 
little  water  wren,  with  its  sweet  song,  its 
familiarity,  and  its  very  curious  habit  of  run- 
ning on  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  several  feet 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  race  of  rapid  water, 
is  the  most  noticeable  of  the  small  birds  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  It  sometimes  sings  loudly 
while  floating  with  half  spread  wings  on  the 
surface  of  a  little  pool.  Taken  as  a  whole, 
small  birds  are  far  less  numerous  and  notice- 
able in  the  wilderness,  especially  in  the  deep 
forests,  than  in  the  groves  and  farmland  of 
the  settled  country.  The  hunter  and  trapper 
are  less  familiar  with  small-bird  music  than 
with  the  screaming  of  the  eagle  and  the  large 
hawks,  the  croaking  bark  of  the  raven,  the 
loon's  cry,  the  crane's  guttural  clangor,  and 


196         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

the  unearthly  yelling  and  hooting  of  the  big 
owls. 

No  bird  is  so  common  around  camp,  so 
familiar,  so  amusing  on  some  occasions,  and 
so  annoying  on  others,  as  that  drab-colored 
imp  of  iniquity,  the  whisky-jack — also  known 
as  the  moose  bird  and  camp  robber.  The 
familiarity  of  these  birds  is  astonishing,  and 
the  variety  of  their  cries, — generally  harsh, 
but  rarely  musical — extraordinary.  They 
snatch  scraps  of  food  from  the  entrances  of 
the  tents,  and  from  beside  the  camp  fire ;  and 
they  shred  the  venison  hung  in  the  trees  un- 
less, closely  watched.  I  have  seen  an  irate 
cook  of  accurate  aim  knock  one  off  an  elk- 
haunch,  with  a  club  seized  at  random  ;  and  I 
have  known  another  to  be  killed  with  a  switch, 
and  yet  another  to  be  caught  alive  in  the  hand. 
When  game  is  killed  they  are  the  first  birds  to 
come  to  the  carcass.  Following  them  come 
the  big  jays,  of  a  uniform  dark-blue  color, 
who  bully  them,  and  are  bullied  in  turn  by  the 
next  arrivals,  the  magpies  ;  while  when  the 
big  ravens  come,  they  keep  all  the  others  in 
the  back-ground,  with  the  exception  of  an 
occasional  wide-awake  magpie. 

For  a  steady  diet  no  meat  tastes  better 
or  is  more  nourishing  than  elk  venison  ;  more- 
over the  different  kinds  of  grouse  give  variety 
to  the  fare,  and  delicious  trout  swarm  through- 
out the  haunts  of  the  elk  in  the  Rockies.  I 
have  never  seen  them  more  numerous  than  in 
the  wonderful  and  beautiful  Yellowstone 
Canyon,  a  couple  of  miles  below  where  the 
river  pitches  over  the  Great  Falls,  in  wind- 
swayed  cataracts  of  snowy  foam.  At  this 


THE  WAPITI.  197 

point  it  runs  like  a  mill-race,  in  its  narrow 
winding  bed,  between  immense  walls  of 
queerly  carved  and  colored  rock  which  tower 
aloft  in  almost  perpendicular  cliffs.  Late  one 
afternoon  in  the  fall  of  '90  Ferguson  and  I 
clambe'red  down  into  the  canyon,  with  a  couple 
of  rods,  and  in  an  hour  caught  all  the  fish  we 
could  carry.  It  then  lacked  much  less  than 
an  hour  o:  nightfall,  and  we  had  a  hard  climb 
to  get  out  of  the  canyon  before  darkness  over- 
took us ;  as  there  was  not  a  vestige  of  a  path, 
and  as  the  climbing  was  exceedingly  laborious 
and  at  one  or  two  points  not  entirely  without 
danger,  the  rocks  being  practicable  in  very 
few  places,  we  could  hardly  have  made  much 
progress  after  it  became  too  dark  to  see. 
Each  of  us  carried  the  bag  of  trout  in  turn, 
and  I  personally  was  nearly  done  out  when 
we  reached  the  top ;  and  then  had  to  trot 
three  miles  to  the  horses. 


198        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AN   ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN    PASS. 

IN  September,  1891,  with  my  ranch-partner, 
Ferguson,  I  made  an  elk-hunt  in  north- 
western Wyoming  among  the  Shoshone  Moun- 
tains, where  they  join  the  Hoodoo  and  Abso- 
raka  ranges.  There  is  no  more  beautiful 
game-country  in  the  United  States.  It  is  a 
park  land,  where  glades,  meadows,  and  high 
mountain  pastures  break  the  evergreen  forest ; 
a  forest  which  is  open  compared  to  the  tangled 
density  of  the  woodland  farther  north.  It  is 
a  high,  cold  region  of  many  lakes  and  clear 
rushing  streams.  The  steep  mountains  are 
generally  of  the  rounded  form  so  often  seen 
in  the  ranges  of  the  Cordilleras  of  the  United 
States ;  but  the  Koodoos,  or  Goblins,  are. 
carved  in  fantastic  and  extraordinary  shapes ; 
while  the  Tetons,  a  group  of  isolated  rock- 
peaks,  show  a  striking  boldness  in  their  lofty 
outlines. 

This  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  hunts  I 
ever  made.  As  always  in  the  mountains,  save 
where  the  country  is  so  rough  and  so  densely 
wooded  that  one  must  go  a-foot,  we  had  a 
pack-train ;  and  we  took  a  more  complete 
outfit  than  we  had  ever  before  taken  on  such 
a  hunt,  and  so  travelled  in  much  comfort. 
Usually  when  in  the  mountains  I  have  merely 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS. 


199 


had  one  companion,  or  at  most  a  couple,  and 
two  or  three  pack-ponies ;  each  of  us  doing 
his  share  of  the  packing,  cooking,  fetching 
water,  and  pitching  the  small  square  of  canvas 
which  served  as  tent.  In  itself  packing  is 
both  an  art  and  a  mystery,  and  a  skilful  pro- 
fessional packer,  versed  in  the  intricacies  of 
the  "  diamond  hitch,"  packs  with  a  speed 
which  no  non-professional  can  hope  to  rival, 
and  fixes  the  side  packs  and  top  packs  with 
such  scientific  nicety,  and  adjusts  the  doubles 
and  turns  of  the  lash-rope  so  accurately,  that 
everything  stays  in  place  under  any  but  the 
most  adverse  conditions.  Of  course,  like 
most  hunters,  I  can  myself  in  case  of  need 
throw  the  diamond  hitch  after  a  fashion,  and 
pack  on  either  the  off  or  near  side.  Indeed, 
unless  a  man  can  pack  it  is  not  possible  to 
make  a  really  hard  hunt  in  the  mountains,  if 
alone,  or  with  only  a  single  companion.  The 
mere  fair-weather  hunter,  who  trusts  entirely 
to  the  exertions  of  others,  and  does  nothing 
more  than  ride  or  walk  about  under  favorable 
circumstances,  and  shoot  at  what  somebody 
else  shows  him,  is  a  hunter  in  name  only. 
Whoever  would  really  deserve  the  title  must 
be  able  at  a  pinch  to  shift  for  himself,  to 
grapple  with  the  difficulties  and  hardships  of 
wilderness  life  unaided,  and  not  only  to  hunt, 
but  at  times  to  travel  for  days,  whether  on 
foot  or  on  horseback,  alone.  However,  after 
one  has  passed  one's  novitiate,  it  is  pleasant 
to  be  comfortable  when  the  comfort  does  not 
interfere  with  the  sport ;  and  although  a  man 
sometimes  likes  to  hunt  alone,  yet  often  it  is 
well  to  be  with  some  old  mountain  hunter,  a 

3— 7B 


200         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

master  of  woodcraft,  who  is  a  first-rate  hand 
at  finding  game,  creeping  upon  it,  and  track- 
ing it  when  wounded.  With  such  a  compan- 
ion one  gets  much  more  game,  and  learns 
many  things  by  observation  instead  of  by 
painful  experience. 

On  this  trip  we  had  with  us  two  hunters, 
Tazewell  Woody  and  El  wood  Hofer,  a  packer 
who  acted  as  cook,  and  a  boy  to  herd  the 
horses.  Of  the  latter,  there  were  twenty  ;  six 
saddle-animals  and  fourteen  for  the  packs — 
two  or  three  being  spare  horses,  to  be  used 
later  in  carrying  the  elk-antlers,  sheep-horns, 
and  other  trophies.  Like  most  hunters'  pack- 
animals,  they  were  either  half-broken,  or  else 
broken  down  ;  tough,  unkempt,  jaded-looking 
beasts  of  every  color — sorrel,  buckskin,  pinto, 
white,  bay,  roan.  After  the  day's  work  was 
over,  they  were  turned  loose  to  shift  for  them- 
selves ;  and  about  once  a  week  they  strayed, 
and  all  hands  had  to  spend  the  better  part  of 
the  day  hunting  for  them.  The  worst  ones 
for  straying,  curiously  enough,  were  three 
broken-down  old  "  bear-baits,"  which  went  by 
themselves,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  the 
cast-off  horses  of  a  herd.  There  were  two 
sleeping  tents,  another  for  the  provisions, — 
in  which  we  ate  during  bad  weather, — and  a 
canvas  tepee,  which  was  put  up  with  lodge- 
poles,  Indian  fashion,  like  a  wigwam.  A 
tepee  is  more  difficult  to  put  up  than  an  ordi- 
nary tent;  but  it  is  very  convenient  when 
there  is  rain  or  snow.  A  small  fire  kindled  in 
the  middle  keeps  it  warm,  the  smoke  escaping 
through  the  open  top — that  is,  when  it  escapes 
at  all ;  strings  are  passed  from  one  pole  to 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  201 

another,  on  which  to  hang  wet  clothes  and 
shoes,  and  the  beds  are  made  around  the 
edges.  As  an  offset  to  the  warmth  and  shel- 
ter, the  smoke  often  renders  it  impossible 
even  to  sit  upright.  We  had  a  very  good 
camp-kit,  including  plenty  of  cooking-  and 
eating-utensils ;  and  among  our  provisions 
were  some  canned  goods  and  sweetmeats, 
to  give  a  relish  to  our  meals  of  meat  and 
bread.  We  had  fur  coats  and  warm  clothes, — 
which  are  chiefly  needed  at  night, — and  plenty 
of  bedding,  including  water-proof  canvas  sheet- 
ing and  a  couple  of  caribou-hide  sleeping-bags, 
procured  from  the  survivors  of  a  party  of 
arctic  explorers.  Except  on  rainy  days  I  used 
my  buckskin  hunting  shirt  or  tunic ;  in  dry 
weather  I  deem  it,  because  of  its  color,  texture, 
and  durability,  the  best  possible  garb  for  the 
still-hunter,  especially  in  the  woods. 

Starting  a  day's  journey  south  of  Heart 
Lake,  we  travelled  and  hunted  on  the  eastern 
edge  of  the  great  basin,  wooded  and  moun- 
tainous, wherein  rise  the  head-waters  of  the 
mighty  Snake  River.  There  was  not  so  much 
as  a  spotted  line — that  series  of  blazes  made 
with  the  axe,  man's  first  highway  through  the 
hoary  forest, — but  this  we  did  not  mind,  as  for 
most  of  the  distance  we  followed  the  well- 
worn  elk-trails.  The  train  travelled  in  Indian 
file.  At  the  head,  to  pick  the  path,  rode  tall, 
silent  old  Woody,  a  true  type  of  the  fast- 
vanishing  race  of  game  hunters  and  Indian 
fighters,  a  man  who  had  been  one  of  the  Cali- 
fornia forty-niners,  and  who  ever  since  had 
lived  the  restless,  reckless  life  of  the  wilder- 
ness. Then  came  Ferguson  and  myself ;  then 


202        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

the  pack-animals,  strung  out  in  line ;  while 
from  the  rear  rose  the  varied  oaths  of  our 
three  companions,  whose  miserable  duty  it 
was  to  urge  forward  the  beasts  of  burden. 

It  is  heart-breaking  work  to  drive  a  pack- 
train  through  thick  timber  and  over  mountains, 
where  there  is  either  a  dim  trail  or  none. 
The  animals  have  a  perverse  faculty  for  choos- 
ing the  wrong  turn  at  critical  moments ;  and 
they  are  continually  scraping  under  branches 
and  squeezing  between  tree-trunks,  to  the 
jeopardy  or  destruction  of  their  burdens. 
After  having  been  laboriously  driven  up  a 
very  steep  incline,  at  the  cost  of  severe  exer- 
tion both  to  them  and  to  the  men,  the  foolish 
creatures  turn  and  run  down  to  the  bottom,  so 
that  all  the  work  has  to  be  done  over  again. 
Some  travel  too  slow ;  others  travel  too  fast. 
Yet  one  cannot  but  admire  the  toughness  of 
the  animals,  and  the  surefootedness  with 
which  they  pick  their  way  along  the  sheer 
mountain  sides,  or  among  boulders  and  over 
fallen  logs. 

As  our  way  was  so  rough,  we  found  that  we 
had  to  halt  at  least  once  every  hour  to  fix  the 
packs.  Moreover,  we  at  the  head  of  the 
column  were  continually  being  appealed  to 
for  help  by  the  unfortunates  in  the  rear. 
First  it  would  be  "  that  white-eyed  cayuse ; 
one  side  of  its  pack  's  down  !  "  then  we  would 
be  notified  that  the  saddle-blanket  of  the 
"  lop-eared  Indian  buckskin "  had  slipped 
back ;  then  a  shout  "  Look  out  for  the  pinto ! " 
would  be  followed  by  that  pleasing  beast's 
appearance,  bucking  and  squealing,  smashing 
dead  timber,  and  scattering  its  load  to  the 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  203 

four  winds.  It  was  no  easy  task  to  get  the 
horses  across  some  of  the  boggy  places  with- 
out miring;  or  to  force  them  through  the 
denser  portions  of  the  forest,  where  there  was 
much  down  timber.  Riding  with  a  pack- 
train,  day  in  and  day  out,  becomes  both  mo- 
notonous and  irritating,  unless  one  is  upheld 
by  the  hope  of  a  game-country  ahead,  or  by 
the  delight  of  exploration  of  the  unknown. 
Yet  when  buoyed  by  such  a  hope,  there  is 
pleasure  in  taking  a  train  across  so  beautiful 
and  wild  a  country  as  that  which  lay  on  the 
threshold  of  our  hunting  grounds  in  the  Sho- 
shones.  We  went  over  mountain  passes,  with 
ranges  of  scalped  peaks  on  either  hand ;  we 
skirted  the  edges  of  lovely  lakes,  and  of 
streams  with  boulder-strewn  beds  ;  we  plunged 
into  depths  of  sombre  woodland,  broken  by 
wet  prairies.  It  was  a  picturesque  sight  to 
see  the  loaded  pack-train  stringing  across  one 
of  these  high  mountain  meadows,  the  motley 
colored  line  of  ponies  winding  round  the 
marshy  spots  through  the  bright  green  grass, 
while  beyond  rose  the  dark  line  of  frowning 
forest,  with  lofty  peaks  towering  in  the  back- 
ground. Some  of  the  meadows  were  beau- 
tiful with  many  flowers — goldenrod,  purple 
aster,  bluebells,  white  immortelles,  and  here 
and  there  masses  of  blood-red  Indian  pinks. 
In  the  park-country,  on  the  edges  of  the  ever- 
green forest,  were  groves  of  delicate  quaking- 
aspen,  the  trees  often  growing  to  quite  a 
height ;  their  tremulous  leaves  were  already 
changing  to  bright  green  and  yellow,  occa- 
sionally with  a  reddish  blush.  In  the  Rocky 
Mountains  the  aspens  are  almost  the  only 


204        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

deciduous  trees,  their  foliage  offering  a  pleas- 
ant relief  to  the  eye  after  the  monotony  of 
the  unending  pine  and  spruce  woods,  which 
afford  so  striking  a  contrast  to  the  hardwood 
forest  east  of  the  Mississippi. 

For  two  days  our  journey  was  uneventful, 
save  that  we  came  on  the  camp  of  a  squaw- 
man — one  Beaver  Dick,  an  old  mountain 
hunter,  living  in  a  skin  tetee,  where  dwelt  his 
comely  Indian  wife  and  half-breed  children. 
He  had  quite  a  herd  of  horses,  many  of  them 
mares  and  colts ;  they  had  evidently  been 
well  treated,  and  came  up  to  us  fearlessly. 

The  morning  of  the  third  day  of  our  journey 
was  gray  and  lowering.  Gusts  of  rain  blew  in 
my  face  as  I  rode  at  the  head  of  the  train. 
It  still  lacked  an  hour  of  noon,  as  we  were 
plodding  up  a  valley  beside  a  rapid  brook 
running  through  narrow  willow-flats,  the  dark 
forest  crowding  down  on  either  hand  from  the 
low  foot-hills  of  the  mountains.  Suddenly 
the  call  of  a  bull  elk  came  echoing  down 
through  the  wet  woodland  on  our  right,  be- 
yond the  brook,  seemingly  less  than  half  a 
mile  off ;  and  was  answered  by  a  faint,  far-off 
call  from  a  rival  on  the  mountain  beyond. 
Instantly  halting  the  train,  Woody  and  I 
slipped  off  our  horses,  crossed  the  brook,  and 
started  to  still-hunt  the  first  bull. 

In  this  place  the  forest  was  composed  of 
the  western  tamarack ;  the  large,  tall  trees 
stood  well  apart,  and  there  was  much  down 
timber,  but  the  ground  was  covered  with 
deep  wet  moss,  over  which  we  trod  silently. 
The  elk  was  travelling  up-wind,  but  slowly, 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  205 

stopping  continually  to  paw  the  ground  and 
thresh  the  bushes  with  his  antlers.  He  was 
very  noisy,  challenging  every  minute  or  two, 
being  doubtless  much  excited  by  the  neigh- 
borhood of  his  rival  on  the  mountain.  We 
followed,  Woody  leading,  guided  by  the  in- 
cessant calling. 

It  was  very  exciting  as  we  crept  toward  the 
great  bull,  and  the  challenge  sounded  nearer 
and  nearer.  While  we  were  still  at  some  dis- 
tance the  pealing  notes  were  like  those  of  a 
bugle,  delivered  in  two  bars,  first  rising,  then 
abruptly  falling  ;  as  we  drew  nearer  they 
took  on  a  harsh  squealing  sound.  Each  call 
made  our  veins  thrill ;  it  sounded  like  the 
cry  of  some  huge  beast  of  prey.  At  last 
we  heard  the  roar  of  the  challenge  not 
eighty  yards  off.  Stealing  forward  three  or 
four  yards,  I  saw  the  tips  of  the  horns 
through  a  mass  of  dead  timber  and  young 
growth,  and  I  slipped  to  one  side  to  get  a 
clean  shot.  Seeing  us  but  not  making  out 
what  we  were,  and  full  of  fierce  and  insolent 
excitement,  the  wapiti  bull  stepped  boldly  to- 
ward us  with  a  stately  -swinging  gait.  Then 
he  stood  motionless,  facing  us,  barely  fifty 
yards  away,  his  handsome  twelve-tined  ant- 
lers tossed  aloft,  as  he  held  his  head  with  the 
lordly  grace  of  his  kind.  I  fired  into  his 
chest,  and  as  he  turned  I  raced  forward  and 
shot  him  in  the  flank ;  but  the  second  bullet 
was  not  needed,  for  the  first  wound  was 
mortal,  and  he  fell  before  going  fifty  yards. 

The  dead  elk  lay  among  the  young  ever- 
greens. The  huge,  shapely  body  was  set  on 


206        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

legs  that  were  as  strong  as  steel  rods,  and 
yet  slender,  clean,  and  smooth ;  they  were  in 
color  a  beautiful  dark  brown,  contrasting  well 
with  the  yellowish  of  the  body.  The  neck 
and  throat  were  garnished  with  a  mane  of 
long  hair ;  the  symmetry  of  the  great  horns 
set  off  the  fine,  delicate  lines  of  the  noble 
head.  He  had  been  wallowing,  as  elk  are 
fond  of  doing,  and  the  dried  mud  clung  in 
patches  to  his  flank;  a  stab  in  the  haunch 
showed  that  he  had  been  overcome  in  battle 
by  some  master  bull  who  had  turned  him  out 
of  the  herd. 

We  cut  off  the  head,  and  bore  it  down  to  the 
train.  The  horses  crowded  together,  snort- 
ing, with  their  ears  pricked  forward,  as  they 
smelt  the  blood.  We  also  took  the  loins  with 
us,  as  we  were  out  of  meat,  though  bull  elk 
in  the  rutting  season  is  not  very  good.  The 
rain  had  changed  to  a  steady  downpour  when 
we  again  got  under  way.  Two  or  three  miles 
farther  we  pitched  camp,  in  a  clump  of  pines 
on  a  hillock  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  start- 
ing hot  fires  of  pitchy  stumps  before  the  tents, 
to  dry  our  wet  things. 

Next  day  opened  with  fog  and  cold  rain. 
The  drenched  pack-animals,  when  driven  into 
camp,  stood  mopingly,  with  drooping  heads 
and  arched  backs  ;  they  groaned  and  grunted 
as  the  loads  were  placed  on  their  backs  and 
the  cinches  tightened,  the  packers  bracing  one 
foot  against  the  pack  to  get  a  purchase  as 
they  hauled  in  on  the  lash-rope.  A  stormy 
morning  is  a  trial  to  temper ;  the  packs  are 
wet  and  heavy,  and  the  cold  makes  the  work 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN-PASS.  207 

even  more  than  usually  hard  on  the  hands. 
By  ten  we  broke  camp.  It  needs  between 
two  and  three  hours  to  break  camp  and  get 
such  a  train  properly  packed ;  once  started, 
our  day's  journey  was  six  to  eight  hours, 
making  no  halt.  We  started  up  a  steep, 
pine-clad  mountain  side,  broken  by  cliffs. 
My  hunting-shoes,  though  comfortable,  were 
old  and  thin,  and  let  the  water  through  like  a 
sieve.  On  the  top  of  the  first  plateau,  where 
black  spruce  groves  were  strewn  across  the 
grassy  surface,  we  saw  a  band  of  elk,  cows 
and  calves,  trotting  off  through  the  rain. 
Then  we  plunged  down  into  a  deep  valley, 
and,  crossing  it,  a  hard  climb  took  us  to  the 
top  of  a  great  bare  table-land,  bleak  and 
wind-swept.  We  passed  little  alpine  lakes, 
fringed  with  scattering  dwarf  evergreens. 
Snow  lay  in  drifts  on  the  north  sides  of  the 
gullies;  a  cutting  wind  blew  the  icy  rain  in 
our  faces.  For  two  or  three  hours  we  trav- 
elled toward  the  farther  edge  of  the  table- 
land. In  one  place  a  spike  bull  elk  stood 
half  a  mile  off,  in  the  open  ;  he  travelled  to 
and  fro,  watching  us. 

As  we  neared  the  edge  the  storm  lulled, 
and  pale,  watery  sunshine  gleamed  through 
the  rifts  in  the  low-scudding  clouds.  At  last 
our  horses  stood  on  the  brink  of  a  bold  cliff. 
Deep  down  beneath  our  feet  lay  the  wild  and 
lonely  valley  of  Two-Ocean  Pass,  walled  in 
on  either  hand  by  rugged  mountain  chains, 
their  flanks  scarred  and  gashed  by  precipice 
and  chasm.  Beyond,  in  a  wilderness  of 
jagged  and  barren  peaks,  stretched  the  Sho- 
shones.  At  the  middle  point  of  the  pass, 


208         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

two  streams  welled  down  from  either  side. 
At  first  each  flowed  in  but  one  bed,  but  soon 
divided  into  two  ;  each  of  the  twin  branches 
then  joined  the  like  branch  of  the  brook  op- 
posite, and  swept  one  to  the  east  and  one  to 
the  west,  on  their  long  journey  to  the  two 
great  oceans.  They  ran  as  rapid  brooks, 
through  wet  meadows  and  willow-flats,  the 
eastern  to  the  Yellowstone,  the  western  to 
the  Snake.  The  dark  pine  forests  swept 
down  from  the  flanks  and  lower  ridges  of  the 
mountains  to  the  edges  of  the  marshy  valley. 
Above  them  jutted  gray  rock  peaks,  snow- 
drifts lying  in  the  rents  that  seamed  their 
northern  faces.  Far  below  us,  from  a  great 
basin  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  filled  with  the 
pine  forest,  rose  the  musical  challenge  of  a 
bull  elk;  and  we  saw  a  band  of  cows  and 
calves  looking  like  mice  as  they  ran  among 
the  trees. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  after  some  search 
we  failed  to  find  any  trail  leading  down  ;  so 
at  last  we  plunged  over  the  brink  at  a  vent- 
ure. It  was  very  rough  scrambling,  dropping 
from  bench  to  bench,  and  in  places  it  was  not 
only  difficult  but  dangerous  for  the  loaded 
pack-animals.  Here  and  there  we  were 
helped  by  well-beaten  elk-trails,  which  we 
could  follow  for  several  hundred  yards  at  a 
time.  On  one  narrow  pine-clad  ledge,  we 
met  a  spike  bull  face  to  face  ;  and  in  scram- 
bling down  a  very  steep,  bare,  rock-strewn 
shoulder  the  loose  stones  started  by  the 
horses'  hoofs,  bounding  in  great  leaps  to  the 
forest  below,  dislodged  two  cows. 

As  evening  fell,  we  reached  the  bottom,  and 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  209 

pitched  camp  in  a  beautiful  point  of  open  pine 
forest,  thrust  out  into  the  meadow.  There 
was  good  shelter,  and  plenty  of  wood,  water, 
and  grass ;  we  built  a  huge  fire  and  put  up 
our  tents,  scattering  them  in  likely  places 
among  the  pines,  which  grew  far  apart  and 
without  undergrowth.  We  dried  our  steaming 
clothes,  and  ate  a  hearty  supper  of  elk-meat ; 
then  we  turned  into  our  beds,  warm  and  dry, 
and  slept  soundly  under  the  canvas,  while  all 
night  long  the  storm  roared  without.  Next 
morning  it  still  stormed  fitfully ;  the  high 
peaks  and  ridges  round  about  were  all  capped 
with  snow.  Woody  and  I  started  on  foot  for 
an  all-day  tramp  ;  the  amount  of  game  seen 
the  day  before  showed  that  we  were  in  a  good 
elk-country,  where  the  elk  had  been  so  little 
disturbed  that  they  were  travelling,  feeding, 
and  whistling  in  daylight.  For  three  hours 
we  walked  across  the  forest-clad  spurs  of  the 
foot-hills.  We  roused  a  small  band  of  elk  in 
thick  timber ;  but  they  rushed  off  before  we 
saw  them,  with  much  smashing  of  dead 
branches.  Then  we  climbed  to  the  summit  of 
the  range.  The  wind  was  light  and  baffling ; 
it  blew  from  all  points,  veering  every  few  min- 
utes. There  were  occasional  rain-squalls  ; 
our  feet  and  legs  were  well  soaked  ;  and  we 
became  chilled  through  whenever  we  sat  down 
to  listen.  We  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  big  bull 
feeding  up-hill,  and  followed  him  ;  it  needed 
smart  running  to  overtake  him,  for  an  elk, 
even  while  feeding,  has  a  ground-covering 
gait.  Finally  we  got  within  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  yards,  but  in  very  thick  timber, 
and  all  I  could  see  plainly  was  the  hip  and  the 


210         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

after-part  of  the  flank.  I  waited  for  a  chance 
at  the  shoulder,  but  the  bull  got  my  wind  and 
was  off  before  I  could  pull  trigger.  It  was  just 
one  of  those  occasions  when  there  are  two 
courses  to  pursue,  neither  very  good,  and 
when  one  is  apt  to  regret  whichever  decision 
is  made. 

At  noon  we  came  to  the  edge  of  a  deep  and 
wide  gorge,  and  sat  down  shivering  to  await 
what  might  turn  up,  our  ringers  numb,  and 
our  wet  feet  icy.  Suddenly  the  love-challenge 
of  an  elk  came  pealing  across  the  gorge, 
through  the  fine,  cold  rain,  from  the  heart  of 
the  forest  opposite.  An  hour's  stiff  climb, 
down  and  up,  brought  us  nearly  to  him  ;  but 
the  wind  forced  us  to  advance  from  below 
through  a  series  of  open  glades.  He  was 
lying  on  a  point  of  the  cliff-shoulder,  sur- 
rounded by  his  cows ;  and  he  saw  us  and  made 
off.  An  hour  afterward,  as  we  were  trudging 
up  a  steep  hill-side  dotted  with  groves  of  fir 
and  spruce,  a  young  bull  of  ten  points,  roused 
from  his  day-bed  by  our  approach,  galloped 
across  us  some  sixty  yards  off.  We  were  in 
need  of  better  venison  than  can  be  furnished 
by  an  old  rutting  bull ;  so  I  instantly  took  a 
shot  at  the  fat  and  tender  young  ten-pointer. 
I  aimed  well  ahead  and  pulled  trigger  just  as 
he  came  to  a  small  gully  ;  and  he  fell  into  it 
in  a  heap  with  a  resounding  crash.  This  was 
on  the  birthday  of  my  eldest  small  son ;  so  I 
took  him  home  the  horns,  "for  his  very  own." 
On  the  way  back  that  afternoon  I  shot  off  the 
heads  of  two  blue  grouse,  as  they  perched  in 
the  pines. 

That   evening   the   storm    broke,  and    the 


AN  ELK-HUNT  A  T  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  211 

weather  became  clear  and  very  cold,  so  that 
the  snow  made  the  frosty  mountains  gleam 
like  silver.  The  moon  was  full,  and  in  the 
flood  of  light  the  wild  scenery  round  our  camp 
was  very  beautiful.  As  always  where  we 
camped  for  several  days,  we  had  fixed  long 
tables  and  settles,  and  were  most  comfortable  ; 
and  when  we  came  in  at  nightfall,  or  some- 
times long  afterward,  cold,  tired,  and  hungry, 
it  was  sheer  physical  delight  to  get  warm 
before  the  roaring  fire  of  pitchy  stumps,  and 
then  to  feast  ravenously  on  bread  and  beans, 
on  stewed  or  roasted  elk  venison,  on  grouse 
and  sometimes  trout,  and  flapjacks  with  maple 
syrup. 

Next  morning  dawned  clear  and  cold,  the 
sky  a  glorious  blue.  Woody  and  I  started  to 
hunt  over  the  great  table-land,  and  led  our 
stout  horses  up  the  mountain-side,  by  elk- 
trails  so  bad  that  they  had  to  climb  like  goats. 
All  these  elk-trails  have  one  striking  peculi- 
arity. They  lead  through  thick  timber,  but 
every  now  and  then  send  off  short,  well-worn 
branches  to  some  cliff-edge  or  jutting  crag, 
commanding  a  view  far  and  wide  over  the 
country  beneath.  Elk  love  to  stand  on  these 
lookout  points,  and  scan  the  valleys  and  mount- 
ains round  about. 

Blue  grouse  rose  from  beside  our  path; 
Clarke's  crows  flew  past  us,  with  a  hollow, 
flapping  sound,  or  lit  in  the  pine-tops,  calling 
and  flirting  their  tails  ;  the  gray-clad  whisky- 
jacks,  with  multitudinous  cries,  hopped  and 
fluttered  near  us.  Snow-shoe  rabbits  scuttled 
away,  the  big  furry  feet  which  give  them  their 
name  already  turning  white.  At  last  we  came 


212         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

out  on  the  great  plateau,  seamed  with  deep, 
narrow  ravines.  Reaches  of  pasture  alternated 
with  groves  and  open  forests  of  varying  size. 
Almost  immediately  we  heard  the  bugle  of  a 
bull  elk,  and  saw  a  big  band  of  cows  and 
calves  on  the  other  side  of  a  valley.  There 
were  three  bulls  with  them,  one  very  large, 
and  we  tried  to  creep  up  on  them ;  but  the 
wind  was  baffling  and  spoiled  our  stalk.  So 
we  returned  to  our  horses,  mounted  them,  and 
rode  a  mile  farther,  toward  a  large  open  wood 
on  a  hill-side.  When  within  two  hundred 
yards  we  heard  directly  ahead  the  bugle  of  a 
bull,  and  pulled  up  short.  In  a  moment  I 
saw  him  walking  through  an  open  glade  ;  he 
had  not  seen  us.  The  slight  breeze  brought 
us  down  his  scent.  Elk  have  a  strong  char- 
acteristic smell ;  it  is  usually  sweet,  like  that 
of  a  herd  of  Alderney  cows ;  but  in  old  bulls, 
while  rutting,  it  is  rank,  pungent,  and  lasting. 
We  stood  motionless  till  the  bull  was  out  of 
sight,  then  stole  to  the  wood,  tied  our  horses, 
and  trotted  after  him.  He  was  travelling  fast, 
occasionally  calling ;  whereupon  others  in  the 
neighborhood  would  answer.  Evidently  he 
had  been  driven  out  of  some  herd  by  the 
master  bull. 

He  went  faster  than  we  did,  and  while  we 
were  vainly  trying  to  overtake  him  we  heard 
another  very  loud  and  sonorous  challenge  to 
our  left.  It  came  from  a  ridge-crest  at  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  among  some  scattered 
clumps  of  the  northern  nut-pine  or  pinyon — a 
queer  conifer,  growing  very  high  on  the  mount- 
ains, its  multiforked  trunk  and  wide-spread- 
ing branches  giving  it  the  rounded  top,  and, 


AN  ELK-HUN7  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  213 

at  a  distance,  the  general  look  of  an  oak 
rather  than  a  pine.  We  at  once  walked 
toward  the  ridge,  up-wind.  In  a  minute  or 
two,  to  our  chagrin,  we  stumbled  on  an  out- 
lying spike  bull,  evidently  kept  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  herd  by  the  master  bull.  I 
thought  he  would  alarm  all  the  rest ;  but,  as 
we  stood  motionless,  he  could  not  see  clearly 
what  we  were.  He  stood,  ran,  stood  again, 
gazed  at  us,  and  trotted  slowly  off.  We  hur- 
ried forward  as  fast  as  we  dared,  and  with  too 
little  care ;  for  we  suddenly  came  in  view  of 
two  cows.  As  they  raised  their  heads  to 
look,  Woody  squatted  down  where  he  was,  to 
keep  their  attention  fixed,  while  I  cautiously 
tried  to  slip  off  to  one  side  unobserved.  Fa- 
vored by  the  neutral  tint  of  my  buckskin  hunt- 
ing-shirt, with  which  my  shoes,  leggins,  and 
soft  hat  matched,  I  succeeded.  As  soon  as  I 
was  out  of  sight  I  ran  hard  and  came  up  to  a 
hillock  crested  with  pinyons,  behind  which  I 
judged  I  should  find  the  herd.  As  I  ap- 
proached the  crest,  their  strong,  sweet  smell 
smote  my  nostrils.  In  another  moment  I  saw 
the  tips  of  a  pair  of  mighty  antlers,  and  I 
peered  over  the  crest  with  my  rifle  at  the 
ready.  Thirty  yards  off,  behind  a  clump  of 
pinyons,  stood  a  huge  bull,  his  head  thrown 
back  as  he  rubbed  his  shoulders  with  his 
horns.  There  were  several  cows  around  him, 
and  one  saw  me  immediately,  and  took  alarm. 
I  fired  into  the  bull's  shoulder,  inflicting  a 
mortal  wound ;  but  he  went  off,  and  I  raced 
after  him  at  top  speed,  firing  twice  into  his 
flank  ;  then  he  stopped,  very  sick,  and  I  broke 
his  neck  with  a  fourth  bullet.  An  elk  often 


214          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

hesitates  in  the  first  moments  of  surprise  and 
fright,  and  does  not  get  really  under  way  for 
two  or  three  hundred  yards ;  but,  when  once 
fairly  started,  he  may  go  several  miles,  even 
though  mortally  wounded ;  therefore,  the 
hunter,  after  his  first  shot,  should  run  forward 
as  fast  as  he  can,  and  shoot  again  and  again 
until  the  quarry  drops.  In  this  way  many 
animals  that  would  otherwise  be  lost  are 
obtained,  especially  by  the  man  who  has  a 
repeating-rifle.  Nevertheless  the  hunter 
should  beware  of  being  led  astray  by  the  ease 
with  which  he  can  fire  half  a  dozen  shots  from 
his  repeater ;  and  he  should  aim  as  carefully 
with  each  shot  as  if  it  were  his  last.  No  pos- 
sible rapidity  of  fire  can  atone  for  habitual 
carelessness  of  aim  with  the  first  shot. 

The  elk  I  thus  slew  was  a  giant.  His  body 
was  the  size  of  a  steer's,  and  his  antlers, 
though  not  unusually  long,  were  very  massive 
and  heavy.  He  lay  in  a  glade,  on  the  edge 
of  a  great  cliff.  Standing  on  its  brink  we 
overlooked  a  most  beautiful  cpuntry,  the 
home  of  all  homes  for  the  elk :  a  wilderness 
of  mountains,  the  immense  evergreen  forest 
broken  by  park  and  glade,  by  meadow  and 
pasture,  by  bare  hill-side  and  barren  table- 
land. Some  five  miles  off  lay  the  sheet  of 
water  known  to  the  old  hunters  as  Spotted 
Lake ;  two  or  three  shallow,  sedgy  places, 
and  spots  of  geyser  formation,  made  pale 
green  blotches  on  its  wind-rippled  surface. 
Far  to  the  southwest,  in  daring  beauty  and 
majesty,  the  grand  domes  and  lofty  spires  of 
the  Tetons  shot  into  the  blue  sky.  Too  sheer 
for  the  snow  to  rest  on  their  sides,  it  yet  filled 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  215 

the  rents  in  their  rough  flanks,  and  lay  deep 
between  the  towering  pinnacles  of  dark  rock. 

That  night,  as  on  more  than  one  night 
afterward,  a  bull  elk  came  down  whistling  to 
within  two  or  three  hundred  yards  of  the  tents, 
and  tried  to  join  the  horse  herd.  The  moon 
had  set,  so  I  could  not  go  after  it.  Elk  are 
very  restless  and  active  throughout  the  night 
in  the  rutting  season  ;  but  where  undisturbed 
they  feed  freely  in  the  daytime,  resting  for 
two  or  three  hours  about  noon. 

Next  day,  which  was  rainy,  we  spent  in 
getting  in  the  antlers  and  meat  of  the  two 
dead  elk  ;  and  I  shot  off  the  heads  of  two  or 
three  blue  grouse  on  the  way  home.  The 
following  day  I  killed  another  bull  elk,  follow- 
ing him  by  the  strong,  not  unpleasing,  smell, 
and  hitting  him  twice  as  he  ran,  at  about 
eighty  yards.  So  far  I  had  had  good  luck, 
killing  everything  I  had  shot  at ;  but  now  the 
luck  changed,  through  no  fault  of  mine,  as 
far  as  I  could  see,  and  Ferguson  had  his  inn- 
ings. The  day  after  I  killed  this  bull  he  shot 
two  fine  mountain  rams;  and  during  the  re- 
mainder of  our  hunt  he  killed  five  elk, — one 
cow,  for  meat,  and  four  good  bulls.  The  two 
rams  were  with  three  others,  all  old  and  with 
fine  horns ;  Ferguson  peeped  over  a  lofty 
precipice  and  saw  them  coming  up  it  only 
fifty  yards  below  him.  His  two  first  and 
finest  bulls  were  obtained  by  hard  running 
and  good  shooting ;  the  herds  were  on  the 
move  at  the  time,  and  only  his  speed  of  foot 
and  soundness  of  wind  enabled  him  to  get 
near  enough  for  a  shot.  One  herd  started 
before  he  got  close,  and  he  killed  the  master 


216        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER, 

bull  by  a  shot  right  through  the  heart,  as  it 
trotted  past,  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant. 
As  for  me,  during  the  next  ten  days  I  killed 
nothing  save  one  cow  for  meat ;  and  this 
though  I  hunted  hard  every  day  from  morn- 
ing till  night,  no  matter  what  the  weather.  It 
was  stormy,  with  hail  and  snow  almost  every 
day ;  and  after  working  hard  from  dawn  until 
nightfall,  laboriously  climbing  the  slippery 
mountain-sides,  walking  through  the  wet 
woods,  and  struggling  across  the  bare  plateaus 
and  cliff-shoulders,  while  the  violent  blasts 
of  wind  drove  the  frozen  rain  in  our  faces, 
we  would  come  in  after  dusk  wet  through  and 
chilled  to  the  marrow.  Even  when  it  rained  in 
the  valleys  it  snowed  on  the  mountain-tops, 
and  there  was  no  use  trying  to  keep  our  feet 
dry.  I  got  three  shots  at  bull  elk,  two  being 
very  hurried  snap-shots  at  animals  running  in 
thick  timber,  the  other  a  running-shot  in  the 
open,  at  over  two  hundred  yards  ;  and  I  missed 
all  three.  On  most  days  I  saw  no  bull  worth 
shooting ;  the  two  or  three  I  did  see  or  hear 
we  failed  to  stalk,  the  light,  shifty  wind  baf- 
fling us,  or  else  an  outlying  cow  which  we  had 
not  seen  giving  the  alarm.  There  were  many 
blue  and  a  few  ruffed  grouse  in  the  woods, 
and  I  occasionally  shot  off  the  heads  of  a 
couple  on  my  way  homeward  in  the  evening. 
In  racing  after  one  elk,  I  leaped  across  a  gully 
and  so  bruised  and  twisted  my  heel  on  a  rock 
that,  for  the  remainder  of  my  stay  in  the 
mountains,  I  had  to  walk  on  the  fore  part  of 
that  foot.  This  did  not  interfere  much  with 
my  walking,  however,  except  in  going  down- 
hill. 


AN  ELK-HUNT  A  T  TWO-OCEAN  PASS,  2  1 7 

Our  ill  success  was  in  part  due  to  sheer  bad 
luck ;  but  the  chief  element  therein  was  the 
presence  of  a  great  hunting-party  of  Shoshone 
Indians.  Split  into  bands  of  eight  or  ten  each, 
they  scoured  the  whole  country  on  their  tough, 
sure-footed  ponies.  They  always  hunted  on 
horseback,  and  followed  the  elk  at  full  speed 
wherever  they  went.  Their  method  of  hunting 
was  to  organize  great  drives,  the  riders  strung 
in  lines  far  apart ;  they  signalled  to  one 
another  by  means  of  willow  whistles,  with 
which  they  also  imitated  the  calling  of  the 
bull  elk,  thus  tolling  the  animals  to  them,  or 
making  them  betray  their  whereabouts.  As 
they  slew  whatever  they  could,  but  by  pref- 
erence cows  and  calves,  and  as  they  were 
very  persevering,  but  also  very  excitable  and 
generally  poor  shots,  so  that  they  wasted 
much  powder,  they  not  only  wrought  havoc 
among  the  elk,  but  also  scared  the  survivors 
out  of  all  the  country  over  which  they 
hunted. 

Day  in  and  day  out  we  plodded  on.  In  a 
hunting  trip  the  days  of  long  monotony  in 
getting  to  the  ground,  and  the  days  of  unre- 
quited toil  after  it  has  been  reached,  always 
far  outnumber  the  red-letter  days  of  success. 
But  it  is  just  these  times  of  failure  that  really 
test  the  hunter.  In  the  long  run,  common- 
sense  and  dogged  perseverance  avail  him 
more  than  any  other  qualities.  The  man 
who  does  not  give  up,  but  hunts  steadily  and 
resolutely  through  the  spells  of  bad  luck  until 
the  luck  turns,  is  the  man  who  wins  success 
in  the  end. 

After    a    week    at    Two-Ocean  Pass,   we 


2l8         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

gathered  our  pack-animals  one  frosty  morning, 
and  again  set  off  across  the  mountains.  A 
two-days'  jaunt  took  us  to  the  summit  of 
Wolverine  Pass,  near  Pinyon  Peak,  beside  a 
little  mountain  tarn  ;  each  morning  we  found 
its  surface  skimmed  with  black  ice,  for  the 
nights  were  cold.  After  three  or  four  days,  we 
shifted  camp  to  the  mouth  of  Wolverine  Creek, 
to  get  off  the  hunting  grounds  of  the  Indians. 
We  had  used  up  our  last  elk-meat  that  morn- 
ing, and  when  we  were  within  a  couple  of 
hours'  journey  of  our  intended  halting-place, 
Woody  and  I  struck  off  on  foot  for  a  hunt. 
Just  before  sunset  we  came  on  three  or  four 
elk  ;  a  spike  bull  stood  for  a  moment  behind 
some  thick  evergreens  a  hundred  yards  off. 
Guessing  at  his  shoulder,  I  fired,  and  he  fell 
dead  after  running  a  few  rods.  I  had  broken 
the  luck,  after  ten  days  of  ill  success. 

Next  morning  Woody  and  I,  with  the 
packer,  rode  to  where  this  elk  lay.  We  loaded 
the  meat  on  a  pack-horse,  and  let  the  packer 
take  both  the  loaded  animal  and  our  own  sad- 
dle-horses back  to  camp,  while  we  made  a 
hunt  on  foot.  We  went  up  the  steep,  forest- 
clad  mountain-side,  and  before  we  had  walked 
an  hour  heard  two  elk  whistling  ahead  of  us. 
The  woods  were  open,  and  quite  free  from 
undergrowth,  and  we  were  able  to  advance 
noiselessly  ;  there  was  no  wind,  for  the 
weather  was  still,  clear,  and  cold.  Both  of 
the  elk  were  evidently  very  much  excited,  an- 
swering each  other  continually  ;  they  had 
probably  been  master  bulls,  but  had  become 
so  exhausted  that  their  rivals  had  driven  them 
from  the  herds,  forcing  them  to  remain  in  se- 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  219 

elusion  until  they  regained  their  lost  strength. 
As  we  crept  stealthily  forward,  the  calling 
grew  louder  and  louder,  until  we  could  hear 
the  grunting  sounds  with  which  the  challenge 
of  the  nearest  ended.  He  was  in  a  large 
wallow,  which  was  also  a  lick.  When  we 
were  still  sixty  yards  off,  he  heard  us,  and 
rushed  out,  but  wheeled  and  stood  a  moment 
to  gaze,  puzzled  by  my  buckskin  suit.  I  fired 
into  his  throat,  breaking  his  neck,  and  down 
he  went  in  a  heap.  Rushing  in  and  turning, 
I  called  to  Woody,  "  He's  a  twelve-pointer, 
but  the  horns  are  small ! "  As  I  spoke  I 
heard  the  roar  of  the  challenge  of  the  other 
bull  not  two  hundred  yards  ahead,  as  if  in 
defiant  answer  to  my  shot. 

Running  quietly  forward,  I  speedily  caught 
a  glimpse  of  his  body.  He  was  behind  some 
fir-trees  about  seventy  yards  off,  and  I  could 
not  see  which  way  he  was  standing,  and  so 
fired  into  the  patch  of  flank  which  was  visible, 
aiming  high,  to  break  the  back.  My  aim  was 
true,  and  the  huge  beast  crashed  down-hill 
through  the  evergreens,  pulling  himself  on  his 
fore  legs  for  fifteen  or  twenty  rods,  his  hind 
quarters  trailing.  Racing  forward,  I  broke 
his  neck.  His  antlers  were  the  finest  I  ever 
got.  A  couple  of  whisky- jacks  appeared  at 
the  first  crack  of  the  rifle  with  their  customary 
astonishing  familiarity  and  heedlessness  of 
the  hunter  ;  they  followed  the  wounded  bull 
as  he  dragged  his  great  carcass  down  the  hill, 
and  pounced  with  ghoulish  bloodthirstiness  on 
the  gouts  of  blood  that  were  sprinkled  over 
the  green  herbage. 

These  two  bulls  lay  only  a  couple  of  hun- 


220         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

dred  yards  apart,  on  a  broad  game-trail,  which 
was  as  well  beaten  as  a  good  bridle-path. 
We  began  to  skin  out  the  heads  ;  and  as  we 
were  finishing  we  heard  another  bull  challeng- 
ing far  up  the  mountain.  He  came  nearer 
and  nearer,  and  as  soon  as  we  had  ended  our 
work  we  grasped  our  rifles  and  trotted  toward 
him  along  the  game-trail.  He  was  very  noisy, 
uttering  his  loud,  singing  challenge  every 
minute  or  two.  The  trail  was  so  broad  and 
firm  that  we  walked  in  perfect  silence.  After 
going  only  five  or  six  hundred  yards,  we  got 
very  close  indeed,  and  stole  forward  on  tip- 
toe, listening  to  the  roaring  music.  The 
sound  came  from  a  steep,  narrow  ravine,  to 
one  side  of  the  trail,  and  I  walked  toward  it 
with  my  rifle  at  the  ready.  A  slight  puff  gave 
the  elk  my  wind,  and  he  dashed  out  of  the 
ravine  like  a  deer  ;  but  he  was  only  thirty 
yards  off,  and  my  bullet  went  into  his  shoulder 
as  he  passed  behind  a  clump  of  young  spruce. 
I  plunged  into  the  ravine,  scrambled  out  of 
it,  and  raced  after  him.  In  a  minute  I  saw 
him  standing  with  drooping  head,  and  two 
more  shots  finished  him.  He  also  bore  fine 
antlers.  It  was  a  great  piece  of  luck  to  get 
three  such  fine  bulls  at  the  cost  of  half  a  day's 
light  work ;  but  we  had  fairly  earned  them, 
having  worked  hard  for  ten  days,  through 
rain,  cold,  hunger,  and  fatigue,  to  no  purpose. 
That  evening  my  home-coming  to  camp,  with 
three  elk-tongues  and  a  brace  of  ruffed  grouse 
hung  at  my  belt,  was  most  happy. 

Next  day  it  snowed,  but  we  brought  a  pack- 
pony  to  where  the  three  great  bulls  lay,  and 
took  their  heads  to  camp  ;  the  flesh  was  far  too 


AN  ELK-HUNT  A  T  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  22 1 

strong  to  be  worth  taking,  for  it  was  just  the 
height  of  the  rut. 

This  was  the  end  of  my  hunt ;  and  a  day 
later  Hofer  and  I,  with  two  pack-ponies,  made 
a  rapid  push  for  the  Upper  Geyser  Basin. 
We  travelled  fast.  The  first  day  was  gray 
and  overcast,  a  cold  wind  blowing  strong  in 
our  faces.  Toward  evening  we  came  on  a 
bull  elk  in  a  willow  thicket ;  he  was  on  his 
knees  in  a  hollow,  thrashing  and  beating  the 
willows  with  his  antlers.  At  dusk  we  halted 
and  went  into  camp,  by  some  small  pools  on  the 
summit  of  the  pass  north  of  Red  Mountain. 
The  elk  were  calling  all  around  us.  We 
pitched  our  cozy  tent,  dragged  great  stumps 
for  the  fire,  cut  evergreen  boughs  for  our 
beds,  watered  the  horses,  tethered  them  to 
improvised  picket-pins  in  a  grassy  glade,  and 
then  set  about  getting  supper  ready.  The 
wind  had  gone  down,  and  snow  was  falling 
thick  in  large,  soft  flakes  ;  we  were  evidently 
at  the  beginning  of  a  heavy  snowstorm.  All 
night  we  slept  soundly  in  our  snug  tent. 
When  we  arose  at  dawn  there  was  a  foot  and 
a  half  of  snow  on  the  ground,  and  the  flakes 
were  falling  as  fast  as  ever.  There  is  no 
more  tedious  work  than  striking  camp  in  bad 
weather ;  and  it  was  over  two  hours  from  the 
time  we  rose  to  the  time  we  started.  It  is 
sheer  misery  to  untangle  picket-lines  and  to 
pack  animals  when  the  ropes  are  frozen  ;  and 
by  the  time  we  had  loaded  the  two  shivering, 
wincing  pack-ponies,  and  had  bridled  and 
saddled  our  own  riding-animals,  our  hands 
and  feet  were  numb  and  stiff  with  cold,  though 
we  were  really  hampered  by  our  warm  cloth- 


222         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

ing.  My  horse  was  a  wild,  nervous  roan,  and 
as  I  swung  carelessly  into  the  saddle,  he  sud- 
denly began  to  buck  before  I  got  my  right  leg 
over,  and  threw  me  off.  My  thumb  was  put 
out  of  joint.  I  pulled  it  in  again,  and  speed- 
ily caught  my  horse  in  the  dead  timber.  Then 
I  treated  him  as  what  the  cowboys  call  a 
"  mean  horse,"  and  mounted  him  carefully,  so 
as  not  to  let  him  either  buck  or  go  over  back- 
ward. However,  his  preliminary  success  had 
inspirited  him,  and  a  dozen  times  that  day  he 
began  to  buck,  usually  choosing  a  down  grade, 
where  the  snow  was  deep,  and  there  was  much 
fallen  timber. 

All  day  long  we  pushed  steadily  through 
the  cold,  blinding  snowstorm.  Neither  squir- 
rels nor  rabbits  were  abroad ;  and  a  few 
Clarke's  crows,  whisky-jacks,  and  chickadees 
were  the  only  living  things  we  saw.  At  night- 
fall, chilled  through,  we  reached  the  Upper 
Geyser  Basin.  Here  I  met  a  party  of  railroad 
surveyors  and  engineers,  coming  in  from  their 
summer's  field-work.  One  of  them  lent  me  a 
saddle-horse  and  a  pack-pony,  and  we  went 
on  together,  breaking  our  way  through  the 
snow-choked  roads  to  the  Mammoth  Hot 
Springs,  while  Hofer  took  my  own  horses  back 
to  Ferguson. 

I  have  described  this  hunt  at  length  be- 
cause, though  I  enjoyed  it  particularly  on  ac- 
count of  the  comfort  in  which  we  travelled  and 
the  beauty  of  the  land,  yet,  in  point  of  success 
in  finding  and  killing  game,  in  value  of  tro- 
phies procured,  and  in  its  alternations  of  good 
and  bad  luck,  it  may  fairly  stand  as  the  type 
of  a  dozen  such  hunts  I  have  made.  Twice  I 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  223 

have  been  much  more  successful ;  the  differ- 
ence being  due  to  sheer  luck,  as  I  hunted 
equally  hard  in  all  three  instances.  Thus  on 
this  trip  I  killed  and  saw  nothing  but  elk ; 
yet  the  other  members  of  the  party  either  saw, 
or  saw  fresh  signs  of,  not  only  blacktail  deer, 
but  sheep,  bear,  bison,  moose,  cougar,  and 
wolf.  Now  in  1889  I  hunted  over  almost 
precisely  similar  country,  only  farther  to  the 
northwest,  on  the  boundary  between  Idaho 
and  Montana,  and,  with  the  exception  of  sheep, 
I  stumbled  on  all  the  animals  mentioned,  and 
white  goat  in  addition,  so  that  my  bag  of 
twelve  head  actually  included  eight  species — 
much  the  best  bag  I  ever  made,  and  the  only 
one  that  could  really  be  called  out  of  the 
common.  In  1884,  on  a  trip  to  the  Bighorn 
Mountains,  I  killed  three  bear,  six  elk  and  six 
deer.  In  laying  in  the  winter  stock  of  meat 
for  my  ranch  I  often  far  excelled  these  figures 
as  far  as  mere  numbers  went ;  but  on  no 
other  regular  hunting  trip,  where  the  quality 
and  not  the  quantity  of  the  game  was  the 
prime  consideration,  have  I  ever  equalled 
them  ;  and  on  several  where  I  worked  hardest 
I  hardly  averaged  a  head  a  week.  The  occa- 
sional days  or  weeks  of  phenomenal  luck,  are 
more  than  earned  by  the  many  others  where 
no  luck  whatever  follows  the  very  hardest 
work.  Yet,  if  a  man  hunts  with  steady  resolu- 
tion he  is  apt  to  strike  enough  lucky  days 
amply  to  repay  him. 

On  this  Shoshone  trip  I  fired  fifty-eight  shots. 
In  preference  to  using  the  knife  I  generally 
break  the  neck  of  an  elk  which  is  still  strug- 
gling ;  and  I  fire  at  one  as  long  as  it  can  stand, 

3-8 


224        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

preferring  to  waste  a  few  extra  bullets,  rather 
than  see  an  occasional  head  of  game  escape. 
In  consequence  of  these  two  traits  the  nine  elk 
I  got  (two  running  at  sixty  and  eighty  yards, 
the  others  standing,  at  from  thirty  to  a  hundred) 
cost  me  twenty-three  bullets ;  and  I  missed, 
three  shots — all  three,  it  is  but  fair  to  say, 
difficult  ones.  I  also  cut  off  the  heads  of 
seventeen  grouse,  with  twenty-two  shots  ;  and 
killed  two  ducks  with  ten  shots — fifty-eight  in 
all.  On  the  Bighorn  trip  I  used  a  hundred 
and  two  cartridges.  On  no  other  trip  did  I  use 
fifty. 

To  me  still-hunting  elk  in  the  mountains, 
when  they  are  calling,  is  one  of  the  most 
attractive  of  sports,  not  only  because  of  the 
size  and  stately  beauty  of  the  quarry  and  the 
grand  nature  of  the  trophy,  but  because  of  the 
magnificence  of  the  scenery,  and  the  stirring, 
manly,  exciting  the  nature  of  the  chase  itself. 
It  yields  more  vigorous  enjoyment  than  does 
lurking  stealthily  through  the  grand  but  gloomy 
monotony  of  the  marshy  woodland  where 
dwells  the  moose.  The  climbing  among  the 
steep  forest-clad  and  glade-strewn  mountains 
is  just  difficult  enough  thoroughly  to  test  sound- 
ness in  wind  and  limb,  while  without  the 
heart-breaking  fatigue  of  white-goat  hunting. 
The  actual  grapple  with  an  angry  grisly  is  of 
course  far  more  full  of  strong,  eager  pleasure  ; 
but  bear  hunting  is  the  most  uncertain,  and 
usually  the  least  productive,  of  sports. 

As  regards  strenuous,  vigorous  work,  and 
pleasurable  excitement  the  chase  of  the  big- 
horn alone  stands  higher.  But  the  bighorn, 
grand  beast  of  the  chase  though  he  be,  is  sur- 


AN  ELK-HUNT  AT  TWO-OCEAN  PASS.  225 

passed  in  size,  both  of  body  and  of  horns,  by 
certain  of  the  giant  sheep  of  Central  Asia; 
whereas  the  wapiti  is  not  only  the  most  stately 
and  beautiful  of  American  game — far  more  so 
than  the  bison  and  moose,  his  only  rivals  in 
size — but  is  also  the  noblest  of  the  stag  kind 
throughout  the  world.  Whoever  kills  him  has 
killed  the  chief  of  his  race ;  for  he  stands  far 
above  his  brethren  of  Asia  and  Europe. 


226         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   MOOSE  ;     THE   BEAST   OF   THE   WOODLAND. 

THE  moose  is  the  giant  of  all  deer  ;  and 
many  hunters  esteem  it  the  noblest  of 
American  game.  Beyond  question  there  are 
few  trophies  more  prized  than  the  huge  shovel 
horns  of  this  strange  dweller  in  the  cold  north- 
land  forests. 

I  shot  my  first  moose  after  making  several 
fruitless  hunting  trips  with  this  special  game 
in  view.  The  season  I  finally  succeeded  it 
was  only  after  having  hunted  two  or  three 
weeks  in  vain,  among  the  Bitter  Root  Moun- 
tains, and  the  ranges  lying  southeast  of  them. 

I  began  about  the  first  of  September  by 
making  a  trial  with  my  old  hunting  friend 
Willis.  We  speedily  found  a  country  where 
there  were  moose,  but  of  the  animals  them- 
selves we  never  caught  a  glimpse.  We  tried 
to  kill  them  by  hunting  in  the  same  manner 
that  we  hunted  elk  ;  that  is,  by  choosing  a 
place  where  there  was  sign,  and  going  care- 
fully through  it  against  or  across  the  wind. 
However,  this  plan  failed ;  though  at  that 
very  time  we  succeeded  in  killing  elk  in  this 
way,  devoting  one  or  two  days  to  their  pursuit. 
There  were  both  elk  and  moose  in  the  coun- 
try, but  they  were  usually  found  in  different 
kinds  of  ground,  though  often  close  alongside 


THE  MOOSE.  227 

one  another.  The  former  went  in  herds,  the 
cows,  calves,  and  yearlings  by  themselves,  and 
they  roamed  through  the  higher  and  more 
open  forests,  well  up  towards  timber  line. 
The  moose,  on  the  contrary,  were  found  singly 
or  in  small  parties  composed  at  the  outside 
of  a  bull,  a  cow,  and  her  young  of  two  years ; 
for  the  moose  is  practically  monogamous,  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  highly  polygamous 
wapiti  and  caribou. 

The  moose  did  not  seem  to  care  much 
whether  they  lived  among  the  summits  of  the 
mountains  or  not,  so  long  as  they  got  the  right 
kind  of  country;  for  they  were  much  more 
local  in  their  distribution,  and  at  this  season 
less  given  to  wandering  than  their  kin  with 
round  horns.  What  they  wished  was  a  cool, 
swampy  region  of  very  dense  growth ;  in  the 
main  chains  of  the  northern  Rockies  even  the 
valleys  are  high  enough  to  be  cold.  Of 
course  many  of  the  moose  lived  on  the  wooded 
summits  of  the  lower  ranges ;  and  most  of 
them  came  down  lower  in  winter  than  in  sum- 
mer, following  about  a  fortnight  after  the  elk ; 
but  if  in  a  large  tract  of  woods  the  cover  was 
dense  and  the  ground  marshy,  though  it  was 
in  a  valley  no  higher  than  the  herds  of  the 
ranchmen  grazed,  or  perchance  even  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  a  small  frontier 
hamlet,  then  it  might  be  chosen  by  some  old 
bull  who  wished  to  lie  in  seclusion  till  his 
horns  were  grown,  or  by  some  cow  with  a  calf 
to  raise.  Before  settlers  came  to  this  high 
mountain  region  of  Western  Montana,  a  moose 
would  often  thus  live  in  an  isolated  marshy 
tract  surrounded  by  open  country.  They 


228         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

grazed  throughout  the  summer  on  marsh 
plants,  notably  lily  stems,  and  nibbled  at  the 
tops  of  the  very  tall  natural  hay  of  the  mead- 
ows. The  legs  of  the  beast  are  too  long  and 
the  neck  too  short  to  allow  it  to  graze  habit- 
ually on  short  grass  ;  yet  in  the  early  spring 
when  greedy  for  the  tender  blades  of  young, 
green  marsh  grass,  the  moose  will  often  shuffle 
down  on  its  knees  to  get  at  them,  and  it  will 
occasionally  perform  the  same  feat  to  get  a 
mouthful  or  two  of  snow  in  winter. 

The  moose  which  lived  in  isolated,  exposed 
localities  were  speedily  killed  or  driven  away 
after-  the  incoming  of  settlers  ;  and  at  the 
time  that  we  hunted  we  found  no  sign  of  them 
until  we  reached  the  region  of  continuous 
forest.  Here,  in  a  fortnight's  hunting,  we 
found  as  much  sign  as  we  wished,  and  plenty 
of  it  fresh  ;  but  the  animals  themselves  we 
not  only  never  saw  but  we  never  so  much  as 
heard.  Often  after  hours  of  careful  still- 
hunting  or  cautious  tracking,  we  found  the 
footprints  deep  in  the  soft  earth,  showing 
where  our  quarry  had  winded  or  heard  us, 
and  had  noiselessly  slipped  away  from  the 
danger.  It  is  astonishing  how  quietly  a  moose 
can  steal  through  the  woods  if  it  wishes :  and 
it  has  what  is  to  the  hunter  a  very  provoking 
habit  of  making  a  half  or  three  quarters  circle 
before  lying  down,  and  then  crouching  with 
its  head  so  turned  that  it  can  surely  perceive 
any  pursuer  who  may  follow  its  trail.  We 
tried  every  method  to  outwit  the  beasts. 
We  attempted  to  track  them ;  we  beat  through 
likely  spots  ;  sometimes  we  merely  "  sat  on  a 
log  "  and  awaited  events,  by  a  drinking  hole, 


THE  MOOSE.  229 

meadow,  mud  wallow  or  other  such  place  (a 
course  of  procedure  which  often  works  well 
in  still-hunting) ;  but  all  in  vain. 

Our  main  difficulty  lay  in  the  character  of 
the  woods  which  the  moose  haunted.  They 
were  choked  and  tangled  to  the  last  degree, 
consisting  of  a  mass  of  thick-growing  conifers, 
with  dead  timber  strewn  in  every  direction, 
and  young  growth  filling  the  spaces  between 
the  trunks.  We  could  not  see  twenty  yards 
ahead  of  us,  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
walk  without  making  a  noise.  Elk  were  oc- 
casionally found  in  these  same  places ;  but 
usually  they  frequented  more  open  timber, 
where  the  hunting  was  beyond  comparison 
easier.  Perhaps  more  experienced  hunters 
would  have  killed  their  game  ;  though  in  such 
cover  the  best  tracker  and  still-hunter  alive 
cannot  always  reckon  on  success  with  really 
wary  animals.  But,  be  this  as  it  may,  we,  at 
any  rate,  were  completely  baffled,  and  I  began 
to  think  that  this  moose-hunt,  like  all  my 
former  ones,  was  doomed  to  end  in  failure. 

However,  a  few  days  later  I  met  a  crabbed 
old  trapper  named  Hank  Griffin,  who  was 
going  after  beaver  in  the  mountains,  and  who 
told  me  that  if  I  would  come  with  him  he 
would  show  me  moose.  I  jumped  at  the 
chance,  and  he  proved  as  good  as  his  word  ; 
though  for  the  first  two  trials  my  ill  luck  did 
not  change. 

At  the  time  that  it  finally  did  change  we 
had  at  last  reached  a  place  where  the  moose 
were  on  favorable  ground.  A  high,  marshy 
valley  stretched  for  several  miles  between 
two  rows  of  stony  mountains,  clad  with  a 


230         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

forest  of  rather  small  fir-trees.  This  valley 
was  covered  with  reeds,  alders,  and  rank 
grass,  and  studded  with  little  willow-bordered 
ponds  and  island-like  clumps  of  spruce  and 
graceful  tamaracks. 

Having  surveyed  the  ground  and  found 
moose  sign  the  preceding  afternoon,  we  were 
up  betimes  in  the  cool  morning  to  begin  our 
hunt.  Before  sunrise  we  were  posted  on  a 
rocky  spur  of  the  foot-hills,  behind  a  mask  of 
evergreens  ;  ourselves  unseen  we  overlooked 
all  the  valley,  and  we  knew  we  could  see  any 
animal  which  might  be  either  feeding  away 
from  cover  or  on  its  journey  homeward  from 
its  feeding  ground  to  its  day-bed. 

As  it  grew  lighter  we  scanned  the  valley 
with  increasing  care  and  eagerness.  The  sun 
rose  behind  us  ;  and  almost  as  soon  as  it  was 
up  we  made  out  some  large  beast  moving 
among  the  dwarf  willows  beside  a  little  lake 
half  a  mile  in  our  front.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  thing  walked  out  where  the  bushes  were 
thinner,  and  we  saw  that  it  was  a  young  bull 
moose  browsing  on  the  willow  tops.  He  had 
evidently  nearly  finished  his  breakfast,  and  he 
stood  idly  for  some  moments,  now  and  then 
lazily  cropping  a  mouthful  of  twig  tips.  Then 
he  walked  off  with  great  strides  in  a  straight 
line  across  the  marsh,  splashing  among  the 
wet  water-plants,  and  ploughing  through  bog- 
gy spaces  with  the  indifference  begotten  of 
vast  strength  and  legs  longer  than  those  of 
any  other  animal  on  this  continent.  At  times 
he  entered  beds  of  reeds  which  hid  him  from 
view,  though  their  surging  and  bending  showed 
the  wake  of  his  passage ;  at  other  times  he 


THE  MOOSE.  231 

walked  through  meadows  of  tall  grass,  the 
withered  yellow  stalks  rising  to  his  flanks, 
while  his  body  loomed  above  them,  glistening 
black  and  wet  in  the  level  sunbeams.  Once 
he  stopped  for  a  few  moments  on  a  rise  of 
dry  ground,  seemingly  to  enjoy  the  heat  of  the 
young  sun;  he  stood  motionless,  save  that  his 
ears  were  continually  pricked,  and  his  head 
sometimes  slightly  turned,  showing  that  even 
in  this  remote  land  he  was  on  the  alert.  Once, 
with  a  somewhat  awkward  motion,  he  reached 
his  hind  leg  forward  to  scratch  his  neck. 
Then  he  walked  forward  again  into  the  marsh  ; 
where  the  water  was  quite  deep  he  broke  into 
the  long,  stretching,  springy  trot,  which  forms 
the  characteristic  gait  of  his  kind,  churning 
the  marsh  water  into  foam.  He  held  his 
head  straight  forwards,  the  antlers  resting  on 
his  shoulders. 

After  awhile  he  reached  a  spruce  island, 
through  which  he  walked  to  and  fro ;  but 
evidently  could  find  therein  no  resting-place 
quite  to  his  mind,  for  he  soon  left  and  went 
on  to  another.  Here  after  a  little  wandering 
he  chose  a  point  where  there  was  some  thick 
young  growth,  which  hid  him  from  view  when 
he  lay  down,  though  not  when  he  stood. 
After  some  turning  he  settled  himself  in  his 
bed  just  as  a  steer  would. 

He  could  not  have  chosen  a  spot  better 
suited  for  us.  He  was  nearly  at  the  edge  of 
the  morass,  the  open  space  between  the  spruce 
clump  where  he  was  lying  and  the  rocky  foot- 
hills being  comparatively  dry  and  not  much 
over  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  broad ;  while 
some  sixty  yards  from  it,  and  between  it  and 

3 — 8  B 


232         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNETR. 

the  hills,  was  a  little  hummock,  tufted  with 
firs,  so  as  to  afford  us  just  the  cover  we  needed. 
Keeping  back  from  the  edge  of  the  morass 
we  were  able  to  walk  upright  through  the  for- 
est, until  we  got  the  point  where  he  was  lying 
in  a  line  with  this  little  hummock.  We  then 
dropped  on  our  hands  and  knees,  and  crept 
over  the  soft,  wet  sward,  where  there  was 
nothing  to  make  a  noise.  Wherever  the 
ground  rose  at  all  we  crawled  flat  on  our 
bellies.  The  air  was  still,  for  it  was  a  very 
calm  morning. 

At  last  we  reached  the  hummock,  and  I  got 
into  position  for  a  shot,  taking  a  final  look  at 
my  faithful  45-90  Winchester  to  see  that  all 
was  in  order.  Peering  cautiously  through  the 
shielding  evergreens,  I  at  first  could  not  make 
out  where  the  moose  was  lying,  until  my  eye  was 
caught  by  the  motion  of  his  big  ears,  as  he 
occasionally  flapped  them  lazily  forward. 
Even  then  I  could  not  see  his  outline ;  but  I 
knew  where  he  was,  and  having  pushed  my 
rifle  forward  on  the  moss,  I  snapped  a  dry 
twig  to  make  him  rise.  My  veins  were  thrill- 
ing and  my  heart  beating  with  that  eager, 
fierce  excitement,  known  only  to  the  hunter 
of  big  game,  and  forming  one  of  the  keenest 
and  strongest  of  the  many  pleasures  which  with 
him  go  to  make  up  "  the  wild  joy  of  living." 

As  the  sound  of  the  snapping  twig  smote 
his  ears  the  moose  rose  nimbly  to  his  feet, 
with  a  lightness  on  which  one  would  not  have 
reckoned  in  a  beast  so  heavy  of  body.  He 
stood  broadside  to  me  for  a  moment,  his  un- 
gainly head  slightly  turned,  while  his  ears 
twitched  and  his  nostrils  snuffed  the  air. 


THE  MOOSE.  233 

Drawing  a  fine  bead  against  his  black  hide, 
behind  his  shoulder  and  two  thirds  of  his 
body's  depth  below  his  shaggy  withers,  I 
pressed  the  trigger.  He  neither  flinched  nor 
reeled,  but  started  with  his  regular  ground- 
covering  trot  through  the  spruces;  yet  I  knew 
he  was  mine,  for  the  light  blood  sprang  from 
both  of  his  nostrils,  and  he  fell  dying  on  his 
side  before  he  had  gone  thirty  rods. 

Later  in  the  fall  I  was  again  hunting  among 
the  lofty  ranges  which  continue  towards  the 
southeast  the  chain  of  the  Bitter  Root,  be- 
tween Idaho  and  Montana.  There  were  but 
two  of  us,  and  we  were  travelling  very  light, 
each  having  but  one  pack-pony  and  the  sad- 
dle animal  he  bestrode.  We  were  high  among 
the  mountains,  and  followed  no  regular  trail. 
Hence  our  course  was  often  one  of  extreme 
difficulty.  Occasionally,  we  took  our  animals 
through  the  forest  near  timber  line,  where  the 
slopes  were  not  too  steep ;  again  we  threaded 
our  way  through  a  line  of  glades,  or  skirted  the 
foot-hills,  in  an  open,  park  country ;  and  now 
and  then  we  had  to  cross  stretches  of  tangled 
mountain  forest,  making  but  a  few  miles  a  day, 
at  the  cost  of  incredible  toil,  and  accomplish- 
ing even  this  solely  by  virtue  of  the  wonder- 
ful docility  and  sure-footedness  of  the  ponies, 
and  of  my  companion's  skill  with  the  axe  and 
thorough  knowledge  of  woodcraft. 

Late  one  cold  afternoon  we  came  out  in  a 
high  alpine  valley  in  which  there  was  no  sign  of 
any  man's  having  ever  been  before  us.  Down 
its  middle  ran  a  clear  brook.  On  each  side 
was  a  belt  of  thick  spruce  forest,  covering  the 
lower  flanks  of  the  mountains.  The  trees 


234         THE   WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

came  down  in  points  and  isolated  clumps  to 
the  brook,  the  banks  of  which  were  thus  bor- 
dered with  open  glades,  rendering  the  travel- 
ling easy  and  rapid. 

Soon  after  starting  up  this  valley  we  entered 
a  beaver  meadow  of  considerable  size.  It 
was  covered  with  lush,  rank  grass,  and  the 
stream  wound  through  it  rather  sluggishly  in 
long  curves,  which  were  fringed  by  a  thick 
growth  of  dwarfed  willows.  In  one  or  two 
places  it  broadened  into  small  ponds,  bearing 
a  few  lily-pads.  This  meadow  had  been  all 
tramped  up  by  moose.  Trails  led  hither  and 
thither  through  the  grass,  the  willow  twigs 
were  cropped  off,  and  the  muddy  banks  of  the 
little  black  ponds  were  indented  by  hoof- 
marks.  Evidently  most  of  the  lilies  had  been 
plucked.  The  footprints  were  unmistakable  ; 
a  moose's  foot  is  longer  and  slimmer  than  a 
caribou's,  while  on  the  other  hand  it  is  much 
larger  than  an  elk's,  and  a  longer  oval  in 
shape. 

Most  of  the  sign  was  old,  this  high  alpine 
meadow,  surrounded  by  snow  mountains,  hav- 
ing clearly  been  a  favorite  resort  for  moose 
in  the  summer ;  but  some  enormous,  fresh 
tracks  told  that  one  or  more  old  bulls  were 
still  frequenting  the  place. 

The  light  was  already  fading,  and,  of  course, 
we  did  not  wish  to  camp  where  we  were,  be- 
cause we  would  then  certainly  scare  the  moose. 
Accordingly  we  pushed  up  the  valley  for 
another  mile,  through  an  open  forest,  the 
ground  being  quite  free  from  underbrush  and 
dead  timber,  and  covered  with  a  carpet  of 
thick  moss,  in  which  the  feet  sank  noise- 


THE  MOOSE.  235 

lessly.  Then  we  came  to  another  beaver- 
meadow,  which  offered  fine  feed  for  the  ponies. 
On  its  edge  we  hastily  pitched  camp,  just  at 
dusk.  We  tossed  down  the  packs  in  a  dry 
grove,  close  to  the  brook,  and  turned  the 
tired  ponies  loose  in  the  meadow,  hobbling 
the  little  mare  that  carried  the  bell.  The 
ground  was  smooth.  We  threw  a  cross-pole 
from  one  to  the  other  of  two  young  spruces, 
which  happened  to  stand  handily,  and  from  it 
stretched  and  pegged  out  a  piece  of  canvas, 
which  we  were  using  as  a  shelter  tent.  Be- 
neath this  we  spread  our  bedding,  laying  under 
it  the  canvas  sheets  in  which  it  had  been 
wrapped.  There  was  still  bread  left  over 
from  yesterday's  baking,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  kettle  was  boiling  and  the  frying- 
pan  sizzling,  while  one  of  us  skinned  and 
cut  into  suitable  pieces  two  grouse  we  had 
knocked  over  on  our  march.  For  fear  of 
frightening  the  moose  we  built  but  a  small 
fire,  and  went  to  bed  soon  after  supper,  being 
both  tired  and  cold.  Fortunately,  what  little 
breeze  there  was  blew  up  the  valley. 

At  dawn  I  was  awake,  and  crawled  out  of 
my  buffalo  bag,  shivering  and  yawning.  My 
companion  still  slumbered  heavily.  White 
frost  covered  whatever  had  been  left  outside. 
The  cold  was  sharp,  and  I  hurriedly  slipped 
a  pair  of  stout  moccasins  on  my  feet,  drew  on 
my  gloves  and  cap,  and  started  through  the 
ghostly  woods  for  the  meadow  where  we  had 
seen  the  moose  sign.  The  tufts  of  grass  were 
stiff  with  frost;  black  ice  skimmed  the  edges 
and  quiet  places  of  the  little  brook. 

I  walked  slowly,  it  being  difficult  not   to 


236        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

make  a  noise  by  cracking  sticks  or  brushing 
against  trees,  in  the  gloom  ;  but  the  forest  was 
so  open  that  it  favored  me.  When  I  reached 
the  edge  of  the  beaver-meadow  it  was  light 
enough  to  shoot,  though  the  front  sight  still 
glimmered  indistinctly.  Streaks  of  cold  red 
showed  that  the  sun  would  soon  rise. 

Before  leaving  the  shelter  of  the  last  spruces 
I  halted  to  listen ;  and  almost  immediately 
heard  a  curious  splashing  sound  from  the 
middle  of  the  meadow,  where  the  brook 
broadened  into  small  willow-bordered  pools. 
I  knew  at  once  that  a  moose  was  in  one  of 
these  pools,  wading  about  and  pulling  up  the 
water-lilies  by  seizing  their  slippery  stems  in 
his  lips,  plunging  his  head  deep  under  water 
to  do  so.  The  moose  love  to  feed  in  this 
way  in  the  hot  months,  when  they  spend  all 
the  time  they  can  in  the  water,  feeding  or 
lying  down ;  nor  do  they  altogether  abandon 
the  habit  even  when  the  weather  is  so  cold 
that  icicles  form  in  their  shaggy  coats. 

Crouching,  I  stole  noiselessly  along  the 
edge  of  the  willow-thicket.  The  stream 
twisted  through  it  from  side  to  side  in  zigzags, 
so  that  every  few  rods  I  got  a  glimpse  down  a 
lane  of  black  water.  In  a  minute  I  heard  a 
slight  splashing  near  me  ;  and  on  passing  the 
next  point  of  bushes,  I  saw  the  shadowy  out- 
line of  the  moose's  hindquarters,  standing  in 
a  bend  of  the  water.  In  a  moment  he  walked 
onwards,  disappearing.  I  ran  forward  a 
couple  of  rods,  and  then  turned  in  among  the 
willows,  to  reach  the  brook  where  it  again 
bent  back  towards  me.  The  splashing  in  the 
water,  and  the  rustling  of  the  moose's  body 


THE  MOOSE.  237 

against  the  frozen  twigs,  drowned  the  little 
noise  made  by  my  moccasined  feet. 

I  strode  out  on  the  bank  at  the  lower  end 
of  a  long  narrow  pool  of  water,  dark  and  half 
frozen.  In  this  pool,  half  way  down  and  fac- 
ing me,  but  a  score  of  yards  off,  stood  the 
mighty  marsh  beast,  strange  and  uncouth  in 
look  as  some  monster  surviving  over  from  the 
Pliocene.  His  vast  bulk  loomed  black  and 
vague  in  the  dim  gray  dawn  ;  his  huge  antlers 
stood  out  sharply  ;  columns  of  steam  rose 
from  his  nostrils.  For  several  seconds  he 
fronted  me  motionless ;  then  he  began  to  turn, 
slowly,  and  as  if  he  had  a  stiff  neck.  When 
quarter  way  round  I  fired  into  his  shoulder  ; 
whereat  he  reared  and  bounded  on  the  bank 
with  great  leap,  vanishing  in  the  willows. 
Through  these  I  heard  him  crash  like  a  whirl- 
wind for  a  dozen  rods  ;  then  down  he  fell,  and 
when  I  reached  the  spot  he  had  ceased  to  strug- 
gle. The  ball  had  gone  through  his  heart. 

When  a  moose  is  thus  surprised  at  close 
quarters,  it  will  often  stand  at  gaze  for  a 
moment  or  two,  and  then  turn  stiffly  around 
until  headed  in  the  right  direction ;  once  thus 
headed  aright  it  starts  off  with  extraordinary 
speed. 

The  flesh  of  the  moose  is  very  good  ;  though 
some  deem  it  coarse.  Old  hunters,  who  always 
like  rich,  greasy  food,  rank  a  moose's  nose 
with  a  beaver's  tail,  as  the  chief  of  backwood 
delicacies;  personally  I  never  liked  either. 
The  hide  of  the  moose,  like  the  hide  of  the 
elk,  is  of  very  poor  quality,  much  inferior  to 
ordinary  buckskin ;  caribou  hide  is  the  best 


238        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

of  all,  especially  when  used  as  webbing  for 
snow-shoes. 

The  moose  is  very  fond  of  frequenting 
swampy  woods  throughout  the  summer,  and 
indeed  late  into  the  fall.  These  swampy 
woods  are  not  necessarily  in  the  lower  valleys, 
some  being  found  very  high  among  the 
mountains.  By  preference  it  haunts  those 
containing  lakes,  where  it  can  find  the  long 
lily-roots  of  which  it  is  so  fond,  and  where  it 
can  escape  the  torment  of  the  mosquitoes  and 
deer-flies  by  lying  completely  submerged  save 
for  its  nostrils.  It  is  a  bold  and  good  swim- 
mer, readily  crossing  lakes  of  large  size ;  but 
it  is  of  course  easily  slain  if  discovered  by 
canoe-men  while  in  the  water.  It  travels 
well  through  bogs,  but  not  as  well  as  the 
caribou ;  and  it  will  not  venture  on  ice  at  all 
if  it  can  possibly  avoid  it. 

After  the  rut  begins  the  animals  roam 
everywhere  through  the  woods ;  and  where 
there  are  hardwood  forests  the  winter-yard  is 
usually  made  among  them,  on  high  ground, 
away  from  the  swamps.  In  the  mountains 
the  deep  snows  drive  the  moose,  like  all 
other  game,  down  to  the  lower  valleys,  in 
hard  winters.  In  the  summer  it  occasionally 
climbs  to  the  very  summits  of  the  wooded 
ranges,  to  escape  the  flies ;  and  it  is  said  that 
in  certain  places  where  wolves  are  plenty  the 
cows  retire  to  the  tops  of  the  mountains  to 
calve.  More  often,  however,  they  select 
some  patch  of  very  dense  cover,  in  a  swamp 
or  by  a  lake,  for  this  purpose.  Their  ways  of 
life  of  course  vary  with  the  nature  of  the 
country  they  frequent.  In  the  towering 


THE  MOOSE. 


239 


chains  of  the  Rockies,  clad  in  sombre  and 
unbroken  evergreen  forests,  their  habits,  in 
regard  to  winter  and  summer-homes,  and 
choice  of  places  of  seclusion  for  cows  with 
young  calves  and  bulls  growing  their  antlers, 
differ  from  those  of  their  kind  which  haunt  the 
comparatively  low,  hilly,  lake-studded  country 
of  Maine  and  Nova  Scotia,  where  the  forests 
are  of  birch,  beech,  and  maple,  mixed  with 
the  pine,  spruce,  and  hemlock. 

The  moose  being  usually  monogamous  is 
never  found  in  great  herds  like  the  wapiti  and 
caribou.  Occasionally  a  troop  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  individuals  may  be  seen,  but  this  is 
rare  ;  more  often  it  is  found  singly,  in  pairs, 
or  in  family  parties,  composed  of  a  bull,  a 
cow,  and  two  or  more  calves  and  yearlings. 
In  yarding,  two  or  more  such  families  may 
unite  to  spend  the  winter  together  in  an  un- 
usually attractive  locality;  and  during  the  rut 
many  bulls  are  sometimes  found  together,  per- 
haps following  the  trail  of  a  cow  in  single  file. 

In  the  fall,  winter,  and  early  spring,  and  in 
certain  places  during  summer,  the  moose 
feeds  principally  by  browsing,  though  always 
willing  to  vary  its  diet  by  mosses,  lichens, 
fungi,  and  ferns.  In  the  eastern  forests,  with 
their  abundance  of  hardwood,  the  birch, 
maple,  and  moose-wood  form  its  favorite  food. 
In  the  Rocky  Mountains,  where  the  forests 
are  almost  purely  evergreen,  it  feeds  on  such 
willows,  alders,  and  aspens  as  it  can  find,  and 
also,  when  pressed  by  necessity,  on  balsam, 
fir,  spruce,  and  very  young  pine.  It  peels 
the  bark  between  its  hard  palate  and  sharp 
lower  teeth,  to  a  height  of  seven  or  eight 


240        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

feet ;  these  "  peelings "  form  conspicuous 
moose  signs.  It  crops  the  juicy,  budding 
twigs  and  stem  tops  to  the  same  height ;  and 
if  the  tree  is  too  tall  it  "  rides  "  it,  that  is, 
straddles  the  slender  trunk  with  its  fore  legs, 
pushing  it  over  and  walking  up  it  until  the 
desired  branches  are  within  reach.  No  beast 
is  more  destructive  to  the  young  growth  of  a 
forest  than  the  moose.  Where  much  perse- 
cuted it  feeds  in  the  late  evening,  early  morn- 
ing, and  by  moonlight.  Where  rarely  dis- 
turbed it  passes  the  day  much  as  cattle  do, 
alternately  resting  and  feeding  for  two  or 
three  hours  at  a  time. 

Young  moose,  when  caught,  are  easily 
tamed,  and  are  very  playful,  delighting  to 
gallop  to  and  fro,  kicking,  striking,  butting, 
and  occasionally  making  grotesque  faces.  As 
they  grow  old  they  are  apt  to  become  danger- 
ous, and  even  their  play  takes  the  form  of  a 
mock  fight.  Some  lumbermen  I  knew  on  the 
Aroostook,  in  Maine,  once  captured  a  young 
moose,  and  put  it  in  a  pen  of  logs.  A  few 
days  later  they  captured  another,  somewhat 
smaller,  and  put  it  in  the  same  pen,  thinking 
the  first  would  be  grateful  at  having  a  com- 
panion. But  if  it  was  it  dissembled  its  feel- 
ings, for  it  promptly  fell  on  the  unfortunate 
new-comer  and  killed  it  before  it  could  be 
rescued. 

During  the  rut  the  bulls  see',  the  cows  far 
and  wide,  uttering  continual'y  throughout  the 
night  a  short,  loud  roar,  which  can  be  heard  at 
a  distance  of  four  or  five  miles  ;  the  cows  now 
and  then  respond  with  low,  plaintive  bellows. 
The  bulls  also  thrash  the  tree  trunks  with 


THE  MOOSE.  241 

their  horns,  and  paw  big  holes  in  soft  ground  ; 
and  when  two  rivals  come  together  at  this 
season  they  fight  with  the  most  desperate  fury. 
It  is  chiefly  in  these  battles  with  one  another 
that  the  huge  antlers  are  used ;  in  contending 
with  other  foes  they  strike  terrible  blows  with 
their  fore  hoofs  and  also  sometimes  lash  out 
behind  like  a  horse.  The  bear  occasionally 
makes  a  prey  of  the  moose  ;  the  cougar  is  a 
more  dangerous  enemy  in  the  few  districts 
where  both  animals  are  found  at  all  plentifully ; 
but  next  to  man  its  most  dreaded  foe  is  the 
big  timber  wolf,  that  veritable  scourge  of  all 
animals  of  the  deer  kind.  Against  all  of 
these  the  moose  defends  itself  valiantly  ;  a, 
cow  with  a  calf  and  a  rutting  bull  being  es- 
pecially dangerous  opponents.  In  deep  snows 
through  which  the  great  deer  flounders  while 
its  adversary  runs  lightly  on  the  crust,  a  single 
wolf  may  overcome  and  slaughter  a  big  bull 
moose  ;  but  with  a  fair  chance  no  one  or  two 
wolves  would  be  a  match  for  it.  Desperate 
combats  take  place  before  a  small  pack  of 
wolves  can  master  the  shovel-horned  quarry, 
unless  it  is  taken  at  a  hopeless  disadvantage  ; 
and  in  these  battles  the  prowess  of  the  moose 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  is  no  unusual  thing 
for  it  to  kill  one  or  more  of  the  ravenous 
throng;  generally  by  a  terrific  blow  of  the 
foreleg,  smashing  a  wolf's  skull  or  breaking 
its  back.  I  have  known  of  several  instances 
of  wolves  being  found  dead,  having  perished 
in  this  manner.  Still  the  battle  usually  ends 
the  other  way,  the  wolves  being  careful  to 
make  the  attack  with  the  odds  in  their  favor  ; 
and  e/ven  a  small  pack  of  the  ferocious  brutes 


242         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

will  in  a  single  winter  often  drive  the  moose 
completely  out  of  a  given  district.  Both 
cougar  and  bear  generally  reckon  on  taking 
the  moose  unawares,  when  they  jump  on  it. 
In  one  case  that  came  to  my  knowledge  a 
black  bear  was  killed  by  a  cow  moose  whose 
calf  he  had  attacked. 

In  the  northeast  a  favorite  method  of  hunt- 
ing the  moose  is  by  "  calling  "  the  bulls  in  the 
rutting  season,  at  dawn  or  nightfall  ;  the 
caller  imitating  their  cries  through  a  birch- 
bark  trumpet.  If  the  animals  are  at  all  wary, 
this  kind  of  sport  can  only  be  carried  on  in 
still  weather,  as  the  approaching  bull  always 
tries  to  get  the  wind  of  the  caller.  It  is  also 
sometimes  slain  by  fire-hunting,  from  a  canoe, 
as  the  deer  are  killed  in  the  Adirondacks. 
This,  however,  is  but  an  ignoble  sport  ;  and 
to  kill  the  animal  while  it  is  swimming  in  a 
lake  is  worse.  However,  there  is  sometimes 
a  spice  of  excitement  even  in  these  unworthy 
methods  of  the  chase  ;  for  a  truculent  moose 
will  do  its  best,  with  hoofs  and  horns,  to  up- 
set the  boat. 

The  true  way  to  kill  the  noble  beast,  how- 
ever, is  by  fair  still-hunting.  There  is  no 
grander  sport  than  still-hunting  the  moose, 
whether  in  the  vast  pine  and  birch  forests  of 
the  northeast,  or  among  the  stupendous  moun- 
tain masses  of  the  Rockies.  The  moose  has 
wonderfully  keen  nose  and  ears,  though  its 
eyesight  is  not  remarkable.  Most  hunters 
assert  that  he  is  the  wariest  of  all  game,  and 
the  most  difficult  to  kill.  I  have  never  been 
quite  satisfied  that  this  was  so ;  it  seems  to 
me  that  the  nature  of  the  ground  wherein  it 


THE  MOOSE.  243 

dwells  helps  it  even  more  than  do  its  own 
sharp  senses.  It  is  true  that  I  made  many 
trips  in  vain  before  killing  my  first  moose; 
but  then  I  had  to  hunt  through  tangled  timber, 
where  I  could  hardly  move  a  step  without 
noise,  and  could  never  see  thirty  yards  ahead. 
If  moose  were  found  in  open  park-like  forests 
like  those  where  I  first  killed  elk,  on  the 
Bighorn  Mountains,  or  among  brushy  coulies 
and  bare  hills,  like  the  Little  Missouri  Bad 
Lands,  where  I  first  killed  blacktail  deer,  I 
doubt  whether  they  would  prove  especially 
difficult  animals  to  bag.  My  own  experience 
is  much  too  limited  to  allow  me  to  speak  with 
any  certainty  on  the  point ;  but  it  is  borne  out 
by  what  more  skilled  hunters  have  told  me. 
In  the  Big  Hole  Basin,  in  southwest  Montana, 
moose  were  quite  plentiful  in  the  late  'seven- 
ties. Two  or  three  of  the  old  settlers,  whom 
I  know  as  veteran  hunters  and  trustworthy 
men,  have  told  me  that  in  those  times  the 
moose  were  often  found  in  very  accessible 
localities  ;  and  that  when  such  was  the  case 
they  were  quite  as  easily  killed  as  elk.  In 
fact,  when  run  across  by  accident  they  fre- 
quently showed  a  certain  clumsy  slowness 
of  apprehension  which  amounted  to  down- 
right stupidity.  One  of  the  most  successful 
moose-hunters  I  know  is  Col.  Cecil  Clay,  of 
the  Department  of  Law,  in  Washington ;  he 
it  was  who  killed  the  moose  composing  the 
fine  group  mounted  by  Mr.  Hornaday,  in  the 
National  Museum.  Col.  Clay  lost  his  right 
arm  in  the  Civil  War ;  but  is  an  expert  rifle 
shot  nevertheless,  using  a  short,  light  forty- 
four  calibre  old  style  Winchester  carbine. 


244        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

With  this  weapon  he  has  killed  over  a  score 
of  moose,  by  fair  still-hunting ;  and  he  tells 
me  that  on  similar  ground  he  considers  it  if 
anything  rather  less  easy  to  still-hunt  and 
kill  a  whitetail  deer  than  it  is  to  kill  a 
moose. 

My  friend  Col.  James  Jones  killed  two 
moose  in  a  day  in  northwestern  Wyoming,  not 
far  from  the  Tetons ;  he  was  alone  when  he 
shot  them  and  did  not  find  them  especially 
wary.  Ordinarily,  moose  are  shot  at  fairly 
close  range ;  but  another  friend  of  mine,  Mr. 
E.  P.  Rogers,  once  dropped  one  with  a  single 
bullet,  at  a  distance  of  nearly  three  hundred 
yards.  This  happened  by  Bridger's  Lake, 
near  Two-Ocean  Pass. 

The  moose  has  a  fast  walk,  and  its  ordinary 
gait  when  going  at  any  speed  is  a  slashing 
trot.  Its  long  legs  give  it  a  wonderful  stride, 
enabling  it  to  clear  down-timber  and  high 
obstacles  of  all  sorts  without  altering  its  pace. 
It  also  leaps  well.  If  much  pressed  or  startled 
it  breaks  into  an  awkward  gallop,  which  is 
quite  fast  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  but  which 
speedily  tires  it  out.  After  being  disturbed 
by  the  hunter  a  moose  usually  trots  a  long 
distance  before  halting. 

One  thing  which  renders  the  chase  of  the 
moose  particularly  interesting  is  the  fact  that 
there  is  in  it  on  rare  occasions  a  spice  of  peril. 
Under  certain  circumstances  it  may  be  called 
dangerous  quarry,  being,  properly  speaking, 
the  only  animal  of  the  deer  kind  which  ever 
fairly  deserves  the  title.  In  a  hand  to  hand 
grapple  an  elk  or  caribou,  or  even  under  ex- 
ceptional circumstances  a  blacktail  or  a  white- 


THE  MOOSE.  245 

tail,  may  show  itself  an  ugly  antagonist  ;  and 
indeed  a  maddened  elk  may  for  a  moment 
take  the  offensive ;  but  the  moose  is  the  only 
one  of  the  tribe  with  which  this  attitude  is  at 
all  common.  In  bodily  strength  and  capacity 
to  do  harm  it  surpasses  the  elk ;  and  in 
temper  it  is  far  more  savage  and  more  apt  to 
show  fight  when  assailed  by  man  ;  exactly  as 
the  elk  in  these  respects  surpasses  the  com- 
mon deer.  Two  hunters  with  whom  I  was 
well  acquainted  once  wintered  between  the 
Wind  River  Mountains  and  the  Three  Tetons, 
many  years  ago,  in  the  days  of  the  buffalo. 
They  lived  on  game,  killing  it  on  snowshoes ; 
for  the  most  part  wapiti  and  deer,  but  also 
bison,  and  one  moose,  though  they  saw  others. 
The  wapiti  bulls  kept  their  antlers  two  months 
longer  than  the  moose  ;  nevertheless,  when 
chased  they  rarely  made  an  effort  to  use  them, 
while  the  hornless  moose  displayed  far  more 
pugnacity,  and  also  ran  better  through  the 
deep  snow.  The  winter  was  very  severe,  the 
snows  were  heavy  and  the  crusts  hard ;  so 
that  the  hunters  had  little  trouble  in  overtak- 
ing their  game,  although — being  old  mountain- 
men,  and  not  hide-hunters — they  killed  only 
what  was  needed.  Of  course  in  such  hunting 
they  came  very  close  to  the  harried  game, 
usually  after  a  chase  of  from  twenty  minutes 
to  three  hours.  They  found  that  the  ordinary 
deer  would  scarcely  charge  under  any  circum- 
stances ;  that  among  the  wapiti  it  was  only 
now  and  then  that  individuals  would  turn 
upon  their  pursuers — though  they  sometimes, 
charged  boldly ;  but  that  both  the  bison  and 
especially  the  moose  when  worried  and  ap« 


246         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

preached  too  near,  would  often  turn  to  bay 
and  make  charge  after  charge  in  the  most 
resolute  manner,  so  that  they  had  to  be 
approached  with  some  caution. 

Under  ordinary  conditions,  however,  there 
is  very  little  danger,  indeed,  of  a  moose  charg- 
ing. A  charge  does  not  take  place  once  in  a 
hundred  times  when  the  moose  is  killed  by 
fair  still-hunting;  and  it  is  altogether  excep- 
tional for  those  who  assail  them  from  boats  or 
canoes  to  be  put  in  jeopardy.  Even  a  cow 
moose,  with  her  calf,  will  run  if  she  has  the 
chance ;  and  a  rutting  bull  will  do  the  same. 
Such  a  bull  when  wounded  may  walk  slowly 
forward,  grunting  savagely,  stamping  with  his 
forefeet,  and  slashing  the  bushes  with  his 
antlers  ;  but,  if  his  antagonist  is  any  distance 
off,  he  rarely  actually  runs  at  him.  Yet  there 
are  now  and  then  found  moose  prone  to  attack 
on  slight  provocation;  for  these  great  deer 
differ  as  widely  as  men  in  courage  and  ferocity. 
Occasionally  a  hunter  is  charged  in  the  fall 
when  he  has  lured  the  game  to  him  by  calling, 
or  when  he  has  wounded  it  after  a  stalk.  In 
one  well-authenticated  instance  which  was 
brought  to  my  attention,  a  settler  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  St.  Johns,  in  New  Brunswick,  was 
tramped  to  death  by  a  bull  moose  which  he 
had  called  to  him  and  wounded.  A  New 
Yorker  of  my  acquaintance,  Dr.  Merrill,  was 
charged  under  rather  peculiar  circumstances. 
He  stalked  and  mortally  wounded  a  bull 
which  promptly  ran  towards  him.  Between 
them  was  a  gully  in  which  it  disappeared. 
Immediately  afterwards,  as  he  thought,  it 
reappeared  on  his  side  of  the  gully,  and  with 


THE  MOOSE.  247 

a  second  shot  he  dropped  it.  Walking  for- 
ward he  found  to  his  astonishment  that  with 
his  second  bullet  he  had  killed  a  cow  moose  ; 
the  bull  lay  dying  in  the  gully,  out  of  which 
he  had  scared  the  cow  by  his  last  rush. 

However,  speaking  broadly,  the  danger  to 
the  still-hunter  engaged  in  one  of  the  legiti- 
mate methods  of  the  chase  is  so  small  that  it 
may  be  disregarded ;  for  he  usually  kiMs  his 
game  at  some  little  distance,  while  the  moose, 
as  a  rule,  only  attacks  if  it  has  been  greatly 
worried  and  angered,  and  if  its  pursuer  is 
close  at  hand.  When  a  moose  is  surprised 
and  shot  at  by  a  hunter  some  way  off,  its  one 
thought  is  of  flight.  Hence,  the  hunters  who 
are  charged  by  moose  are  generally  those  who 
follow  them  during  the  late  winter  and  early 
spring,  when  the  animals  have  yarded  and 
can  be  killed  on  snow-shoes — by  "  crusting," 
as  it  is  termed,  a  very  destructive,  and  often 
a  very  unsportsman-like  species  of  chase. 

If  the  snow-fall  is  very  light,  moose  do  not 
yard  at  all ;  but  in  a  hard  winter  they  begin 
to  make  their  yards  in  Decerriber.  A  "  yard  " 
is  not,  as  some  people  seem  to  suppose,  a 
trampled-down  space,  with  definite  bound- 
aries ;  the  term  merely  denotes  the  spot 
which  a  moose  has  chosen  for  its  winter 
home,  choosing  it  because  it  contains  plenty 
of  browse  in  the  shape  of  young  trees  and 
saplings,  and  perhaps  also  because  it  is  shel- 
tered to  some  extent  from  the  fiercest  winds 
and  heaviest  snowdrifts.  The  animal  travels 
to  and  fro  across  this  space  in  straight  lines 
and  irregular  circles  after  food,  treading  in  its 
own  footsteps,  where  practicable.  As  the 


248        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

snow  steadily  deepens,  these  lines  of  travel 
become  beaten  paths.  There  results  finally 
a  space  half  a  mile  square — sometimes  more, 
sometimes  very  much  less,  according  to  the 
lay  of  the  land,  and  the  number  of  moose 
yarding  together — where  the  deep  snow  is 
seamed  in  every  direction  by  a  network  of 
narrow  paths  along  which  a  moose  can  travel 
at  speed,  its  back  level  with  the  snow  round 
about.  Sometimes,  when  moose  are  very 
plenty,  many  of  these  yards  lie  so  close 
together  that  the  beasts  can  readily  make 
their  way  from  one  to  another.  When  such 
is  the  case,  the  most  expert  snow-shoer,  under 
the  most  favorable  conditions,  cannot  over- 
take them,  for  they  can  then  travel  very  fast 
through  the  paths,  keeping  their  gait  all  day. 
In  the  early  decades  of  the  present  century, 
the  first  settlers  in  Aroostook  County,  Maine, 
while  moose-hunting  in  winter,  were  frequently 
baffled  in  this  manner. 

When  hunters  approach  an  isolated  yard 
the  moose  immediately  leave  it  and  run  off 
through  the  snow.  If  there  is  no  crust,  and 
if  their  long  legs  can  reach  the  ground,  the 
snow  itself  impedes  them  but  little,  because 
of  their  vast  strength  and  endurance.  Snow- 
drifts which  render  an  ordinary  deer  abso- 
lutely helpless,  and  bring  even  an  elk  to  a 
standstill,  offer  no  impediment  whatever  to  a 
moose.  If,  as  happens  very  rarely,  the  loose 
snow  is  of  such  depth  that  even  the  stilt-like 
legs  of  the  moose  cannot  touch  solid  earth,  it 
flounders  and  struggles  forward  for  a  little 
time,  and  then  sinks  exhausted  ;  for  a  caribou 
is  the  only  large  animal  which  can  travel 


THE  MOOSE. 


249 


under  such  conditions.  If  there  be  a  crust, 
even  though  the  snow  is  not  remarkably  deep, 
the  labor  of  the  moose  is  vastly  increased,  as 
it  breaks  through  at  every  step,  cutting  its 
legs  and  exhausting  itself.  A  caribou,  on  the 
other  hand,  will  go  across  a  crust  as  well  as  a 
man  on  snow-shoes,  and  can  never  be  caught 
by  the  latter,  save  under  altogether  excep- 
tional conditions  of  snowfall  and  thaw. 

"Crusting,"  or  following  game  on  snow- 
shoes,  is,  as  the  name  implies,  almost  always 
practised  after  the  middle  of  February,  when 
thaws  begin,  and  the  snow  crusts  on  top. 
The  conditions  for  success  in  crusting  moose 
and  deer  are  very  different.  A  crust  through 
which  a  moose  would  break  at  every  stride 
may  carry  a  running  deer  without  mishap  ; 
while  the  former  animal  would  trot  at  ease 
through  drifts  in  which  the  latter  would  be 
caught  as  if  in  a  quicksand. 

Hunting  moose  on  snow,  therefore,  may  be, 
and  very  often  is,  mere  butchery;  and  be- 
cause of  this  possibility  or  probability,  and 
also  because  of  the  fact  that  it  is  by  far  the 
most  destructive  kind  of  hunting,  and  is  car- 
ried on  at  a  season  when  the  bulls  are  horn- 
less and  the  cows  heavy  with  calf,  it  is  rigidly 
and  properly  forbidden  wherever  there  are 
good  game-laws.  Yet  this  kind  of  hunting 
may  also  be  carried  on  under  circumstances 
which  render  it  if  not  a  legitimate,  yet  a  most 
exciting  and  manly  sport,  only  to  be  followed 
by  men  of  tried  courage,  hardihood,  and  skill. 
This  is  not  because  it  ever  necessitates  any 
skill  whatever  in  the  use  of  the  rifle,  or  any 
particular  knowledge  of  hunting-craft ;  but 


250         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

because  under  the  conditions  spoken  of  the 
hunter  must  show  great  endurance  and  resolu- 
tion, and  must  be  an  adept  in  the  use  of  snow- 
shoes. 

It  all  depends  upon  the  depth  of  the  snow 
and  the  state  of  the  crust.  If  when  the  snow 
is  very  deep  there  comes  a  thaw,  and  if  it  then 
freezes  hard,  the  moose  are  overtaken  and 
killed  with  ease ;  for  the  crust  cuts  their  legs, 
they  sink  to  their  bellies  at  every  plunge,  and 
speedily  become  so  worn  out  that  they  can  no 
longer  keep  ahead  of  any  man  who  is  even 
moderately  skilful  in  the  use  of  snow-shoes  ; 
though  they  do  not,  as  deer  so  often  do,  sink 
exhausted  after  going  a  few  rods  from  their 
yard.  Under  such  circumstances  a  few  hardy 
hunters  or  settlers,  who  are  perfectly  reckless 
in  slaughtering  game,  may  readily  kill  all  the 
moose  in  a  district.  It  is  a  kind  of  hunting 
which  just  suits  the  ordinary  settler,  who  is 
hardy  and  enduring,  but  knows  little  of  hunt- 
ing-craft proper. 

If  the  snow  is  less  deep,  or  the  crust  not  so 
heavy,  the  moose  may  travel  for  scores  of 
miles  before  it  is  overtaken ;  and  this  even 
though  the  crust  be  strong  enough  to  bear  a 
man  wearing  snow-shoes  without  breaking. 
The  chase  then  involves  the  most  exhausting 
fatigue.  Moreover,  it  can  be  carried  on  only 
by  those  who  are  very  skilful  in  the  use  of 
snow-shoes.  These  snow-shoes  are  of  two 
kinds.  In  the  northeast,  and  in  the  most 
tangled  forests  of  the  northwest,  the  webbed 
snow-shoes  are  used  ;  on  the  bare  mountain- 
sides, and  in  the  open  forests  of  the  Rockies, 
the  long  narrow  wooden  skees,  or  Norwegian 


THE  MOOSE.  251 

snow-skates  are  preferred,  as  upon  them  men 
can  travel  much  faster,  though  they  are  less 
handy  in  thick  timber.  Having  donned  his 
snow-shoes  and  struck  the  trail  of  a  moose, 
the  hunter  may  have  to  follow  it  three  days  if 
the  snow  is  of  only  ordinary  depth,  with  a 
moderate  crust.  He  shuffles  across  the  snow 
without  halt  while  daylight  lasts,  and  lies 
down  wherever  he  happens  to  be  when  night 
strikes  him,  probably  with  a  little  frozen  bread 
as  his  only  food.  The  hunter  thus  goes 
through  inordinate  labor,  and  suffers  from  ex- 
posure ;  not  infrequently  his  feet  are  terribly 
cut  by  the  thongs  of  the  snow-shoes,  and  be- 
come sore  and  swollen,  causing  great  pain. 
When  overtaken  after  such  a  severe  chase, 
the  moose  is  usually  so  exhausted  as  to  be 
unable  to  make  any  resistance  ;  in  all  likeli- 
hood it  has  run  itself  to  a  standstill.  Accord- 
ingly, the  quality  of  the  fire-arms  makes  but 
little  difference  in  this  kind  of  hunting.  Many 
of  the  most  famous  old  moose-hunters  of 
Maine,  in  the  long  past  days,  before  the  Civil 
War,  when  moose  were  plenty  there,  used 
what  were  known  as  "three  dollar"  guns; 
light,  single-barrelled  smooth-bores.  One 
whom  I  knew  used  a  flint-lock  musket,  a  relic 
of  the  War  of  1812.  Another  in  the  course  of 
an  exhausting  three  days'  chase  lost  the  lock 
off  his  cheap,  percussion-cap  gun  ;  and  when 
he  overtook  the  moose  he  had  to  explode  the 
cap  by  hammering  it  with  a  stone. 

It  is  in  "crusting,"  when  the  chase  has 
lasted  but  a  comparatively  short  time,  that 
moose  most  frequently  show  fight ;  for  they 
are  not  cast  into  a  state  of  wild  panic  by  a 


252         fHE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

sudden  and  unlooked-for  attack  by  a  man 
who  is  a  long  distance  from  them,  but  on  the 
contrary,  after  being  worried  and  irritated,  are 
approached  very  near  by  foes  from  whom  they 
have  been  fleeing  for  hours.  Nevertheless,  in 
the  majority  of  cases  even  crusted  moose 
make  not  the  slightest  attempt  at  retalia- 
tion. If  the  chase  has  been  very  long,  or 
if  the  depth  of  the  snow  and  character  of 
the  crust  are  exceptionally  disadvantageous 
to  them,  they  are  so  utterly  done  out,  when 
overtaken,  that  they  cannot  make  a  struggle, 
and  may  even  be  killed  with  an  axe.  I  know 
of  at  least  five  men  who  have  thus  killed 
crusted  moose  with  an  axe ;  one  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  one  in  Minnesota,  three  in 
Maine. 

But  in  ordinary  snow  a  man  who  should 
thus  attempt  to  kill  a  moose  would  merely 
jeopardize  his  own  life ;  and  it  is  not  an  un- 
common thing  for  chased  moose,  when  closely 
approached  by  their  pursuers,  even  when  the 
latter  carry  guns  and  are  expert  snow-shoers, 
to  charge  them  with  such  ferocity  as  to  put 
them  in  much  peril.  A  brother  of  one  of  my 
cow-hands,  a  man  from  Maine,  was  once  nearly 
killed  by  a  cow  moose.  She  had  been  in  a 
yard  with  her  last  year's  calf  when  started. 
After  two  or  three  hours'  chase  he  overtook 
them.  They  were  travelling  in  single  file,  the 
cow  breaking  her  path  through  the  snow,  while 
the  calf  followed  close  behind,  and  in  his 
nervousness  sometimes  literally  ran  up  on  her. 
The  man  trotted  close  alongside  ;  but,  before 
he  could  fire,  the  old  cow  spun  round  and 
charged  him,  her  mane  bristling  and  her  green 


THE  MOOSE.  253 

eyes  snapping  with  rage.  It  happened  that 
just  there  the  snow  became  shallow,  and  the 
moose  gained  so  rapidly  that  the  man,  to 
save  his  life,  sprang  up  a  tree.  As  he  did  so 
the  cow  reared  and  struck  at  him,  one  fore- 
foot catching  in  his  snow-shoe  and  tearing  it 
clear  off,  giving  his  ankle  a  bad  wrench. 
After  watching  him  a  minute  or  two  she 
turned  and  continued  her  flight ;  whereupon 
he  climbed  down  the  tree,  patched  up  his 
torn  snow-shoe  and  limped  after  the  moose, 
which  he  finally  killed. 

An  old  hunter  named  Purvis  told  me  of  an 
adventure  of  the  kind,  which  terminated 
fatally.  He  was  hunting  near  the  Cceur 
d'Alene  Mountains  with  a  mining  prospector 
named  Pingree ;  both  were  originally  from 
New  Hampshire.  Late  in  November  there 
came  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  deep  enough  to 
soon  bring  a  deer  to  a  standstill,  although  not 
so  deep  as  to  hamper  a  moose's  movement. 
The  men  bound  on  their  skees  and  started  to 
the  borders  of  a  lake,  to  kill  some  blacktail. 
In  a  thicket  close  to  the  lake's  brink  they 
suddenly  came  across  a  bull  moose  ;  a  lean 
old  fellow,  still  savage  from  the  rut.  Pingree, 
who  was  nearest,  fired  at  and  wounded  him ; 
whereupon  he  rushed  straight  at  the  man, 
knocked  him  down  before  he  could  turn  round 
on  his  skees,  and  began  to  pound  him  with 
his  terrible  forefeet.  Summoned  by  his  com- 
rade's despairing  cries,  Purvis  rushed  round 
the  thickets,  and  shot  the  squealing,  trampling 
monster  through  the  body,  and  immediately 
after  had  to  swing  himself  up  a  small  tree  to 
avoid  its  furious  rush.  The  moose  did  not 


254        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

turn  after  this  charge,  but  kept  straight  on, 
and  was  not  seen  again.  The  wounded  man 
was  past  all  help,  for  his  chest  was  beaten  in, 
and  he  died  in  a  couple  of  hours. 


HUNTING  LORE.  255 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HUNTING   LORE. 

TT  has  been  my  good-luck  to  kill  every  kind 
"••  of  game  properly  belonging  to  the  United 
States :  though  one  beast  which  I  never  had 
a  chance  to  slay,  the  jaguar,  from  the  torrid 
South,  sometimes  comes  just  across  the  Rio 
Grande  ;  nor  have  I  ever  hunted  the  musk-ox 
and  polar  bear  in  the  boreal  wastes  where  they 
dwell,  surrounded  by  the  frozen  desolation  of 
the  uttermost  North. 

I  have  never  sought  to  make  large  bags,  for 
a  hunter  should  not  be  a  game  butcher.  It  is 
always  lawful  to  kill  dangerous  or  noxious  ani- 
mals, like  the  bear,  cougar,  and  wolf ;  but 
other  game  should  only  be  shot  when  there  is 
need  of  the  meat,  or  for  the  sake  of  an  unusu- 
ally fine  trophy.  Killing  a  reasonable  number 
of  bulls,  bucks,  or  rams  does  no  harm  what- 
ever to  the  species  ;  to  slay  half  the  males  of 
any  kind  of  game  would  not  stop  the  natural 
increase,  and  they  yield  the  best  sport,  and 
are  the  legitimate  objects  of  the  chase.  Cows, 
does,  and  ewes,  on  the  contrary,  should  only 
be  killed  (unless  barren)  in  case  of  necessity ; 
during  my  last  five  years'  hunting  I  have  killed 

3—9 


256        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

but  five — one  by  a  mischance,  and  the  other 
four  for  the  table. 

From  its  very  nature,  the  life  of  the  hunter 
is  in  most  places  evanescent ;  and  when  it 
has  vanished  there  can  be  no  real  substitute 
in  old  settled  countries.  Shooting  in  a  private 
game  preserve  is  but  a  dismal  parody;  the 
manliest  and  healthiest  features  of  the  sport 
are  lost  with  the  change  of  conditions.  We 
need,  in  the  interest  of  the  community  at 
large,  a  rigid  system  of  game  laws  rigidly  en- 
forced, and  it  is  not  only  admissible,  but  one 
may  almost  say  necessary,  to  establish,  under 
the  control  of  the  State,  great  national  forest 
reserves,  which  shall  also  be  breeding  grounds 
and  nurseries  for  wild  game ;  but  I  should 
much  regret  to  see  grow  up  in  this  country  a 
system  of  large  private  game  preserves,  kept 
for  the  enjoyment  of  the  very  rich.  One  of 
the  chief  attractions  of  the  life  of  the  wilder- 
ness is  its  rugged  and  stalwart  democracy ; 
there  every  man  stands  for  what  he  actually 
is,  and  can  show  himself  to  be. 

There  are,  in  different  parts  of  our  country, 
chances  to  try  so  many  various  kinds  of  hunt- 
ing, with  rifle  or  with  horse  and  hound,  that 
it  is  nearly  impossible  for  one  man  to  have 
experience  of  them  all.  There  are  many 
hunts  I  long  hoped  to  take,  but  never  did  and 
never  shall ;  they  must  be  left  for  men  with 
more  time,  or  for  those  whose  homes  are 
nearer  to  the  hunting  grounds.  I  have  never 
seen  a  grisly  roped  by  the  riders  of  the  plains, 
nor  a  black  bear  killed  with  the  knife  and 


HUNTING  LORE. 


257 


hounds  in  the  southern  canebrakes;  though 
at  one  time  I  had  for  many  years  a  standing 
invitation  to  witness  this  last  feat  on  a  planta- 
tion in  Arkansas.  The  friend  who  gave  it, 
an  old  backwoods  planter,  at  one  time  lost 
almost  all  his  hogs  by  the  numerous  bears 
who  infested  his  neighborhood.  He  took  a 
grimly  humorous  revenge  each  fall  by  doing 
his  winter  killing  among  the  bears  instead 
of  among  the  hogs  they  had  slain ;  for  as  the 
cold  weather  approached  he  regularly  proceed- 
ed to  lay  in  a  stock  of  bear-bacon,  scouring 
the  canebrakes  in  a  series  of  systematic  hunts, 
bringing  the  quarry  to  bay  with  the  help  ot 
a  big  pack  of  hard-fighting  mongrels,  and  then 
killing  it  with  his  long,  broad-bladed  bowie. 

Again,  I  should  like  to  make  a  trial  at  kill- 
ing peccaries  with  the  spear,  whether  on  foot 
or  on  horseback,  and  with  or  without  dogs. 
I  should  like  much  to  repeat  the  experience 
of  a  friend  who  cruised  northward  through 
Bering  Sea,  shooting  walrus  and  polar  bear ; 
and  that  of  two  other  friends  who  travelled 
with  dog-sleds  to  the  Barren  Grounds,  in 
chase  of  the  caribou,  and  of  that  last  survivor 
of  the  Ice  Age,  the  strange  musk-ox.  Once 
in  a  while  it  must  be  good  sport  to  shoot  al- 
ligators by  torchlight  in  the  everglades  of 
Florida  or  the  bayous  of  Louisiana. 

If  the  big-game  hunter,  the  lover  of  the 
rifle,  has  a  taste  for  kindred  field  sports  with 
rod  and  shotgun,  many  are  his  chances  for 
pleasure,  though  perhaps  of  a  less  intense 
kind.  The  wild  turkey  really  deserves  a  place 


258         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

beside  the  deer ;  to  kill  a  wary  old  gobbler 
with  the  small-bore  rifle,  by  fair  still-hunting, 
is  a  triumph  for  the  best  sportsman.  Swans, 
geese,  and  sandhill  cranes  likewise  may  some- 
times be  killed  with  the  rifle  ;  but  more  often 
all  three,  save  perhaps  the  swan,  must  be  shot 
over  decoys.  Then  there  is  prairie-chicken 
shooting  on  the  fertile  grain  prairies  of  the 
middle  West,  from  Minnesota  to  Texas ;  and 
killing  canvas-backs  from  behind  blinds,  with 
the  help  of  that  fearless  swimmer,  the  Chesa- 
peake Bay  dog.  In  Californian  mountains 
and  valleys  live  the  beautiful  plumed  quails, 
and  who  does  not  know  their  cousin  bob-white, 
the  bird  of  the  farm,  with  his  cheery  voice 
and  friendly  ways  ?  For  pure  fun,  nothing 
can  surpass  a  night  scramble  through  the 
woods  after  coon  and  possum. 

The  salmon,  whether  near  Puget  Sound  or 
the  St.  Lawrence,  is  the  royal  fish ;  his  only 
rival  is  the  giant  of  the  warm  Gulf  waters,  the 
silver-mailed  tarpon  ;  while  along  the  Atlantic 
coast  the  great  striped  bass  likewise  yields 
fine  sport  to  the  men  of  rod  and  reel.  Every 
hunter  of  the  mountains  and  the  northern 
woods  knows  the  many  kinds  of  spotted  trout ; 
for  the  black  bass  he  cares  less ;  and  least  of 
all  for  the  sluggish  pickerel,  and  his  big 
brother  of  the  Great  Lakes,  the  muscallonge. 

Yet  the  sport  yielded  by  rod  and  smooth- 
bore is  really  less  closely  kin  to  the  strong 
pleasures  so  beloved  by  the  hunter  who  trusts 
in  horse  and  rifle  than  are  certain  other  out- 
door pastimes,  of  the  rougher  and  hardier  kind. 


HUNTING  LORE.  259 

Such  a  pastime  is  snow-shoeing,  whether  with 
webbed  rackets,  in  the  vast  northern  forests,  or 
with  skees,  on  the  bare  slopes  of  the  Rockies. 
Such  is  mountaineering,  especially  when  joined 
with  bold  exploration  of  the  unknown.  Most 
of  our  mountains  are  of  rounded  shape,  and 
though  climbing  them  is  often  hard  work,  it  is 
rarely  difficult  or  dangerous,  save  in  bad 
weather,  or  after  a  snowfall.  But  there  are 
many  of  which  this  is  not  true ;  the  Tetons,  for 
instance,  and  various  glacier-bearing  peaks 
in  the  Northwest ;  while  the  lofty,  snow-clad 
ranges  of  British  Columbia  and  Alaska  offer 
one  of  the  finest  fields  in  the  world  for  the 
daring  cragsman.  Mountaineering  is  among 
the  manliest  of  sports  ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  some  of  our  young  men  with  a  taste  for 
hard  work  and  adventure  among  the  high  hills 
will  attempt  the  conquest  of  these  great  un- 
trodden mountains  of  their  own  continent.  As 
with  all  pioneer  work,  there  would  be  far  more 
discomfort  and  danger,  far  more  need  to  dis- 
play resolution,  hardihood,  and  wisdom  in  such 
an  attempt  than  in  any  expedition  on  well 
known  and  historic  ground  like  the  Swiss 
Alps;  but  the  victory  would  be  a  hundred- 
fold better  worth  winning. 

The  dweller  or  sojourner  in  the  wilderness 
who  most  keenly  loves  and  appreciates  his 
wild  surroundings,  and  all  their  sights  and 
sounds,  is  the  man  who  also  loves  and  appre- 
ciates the  books  which  tell  of  them. 

Foremost  of  all  American  writers  on  out- 
door life  is  John  Burroughs  ;  and  I  can 


260         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

scarcely  suppose  that  any  man  who  cares  for 
existence  outside  the  cities  would  willingly  be 
without  anything  that  he  has  ever  written. 
To  the  naturalist,  to  the  observer  and  lover 
of  nature,  he  is  of  course  worth  many  times 
more  than  any  closet  systematist ;  and  though 
he  has  not  been  very  much  in  really  wild  re- 
gions, his  pages  so  thrill  with  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  outdoor  life  that  nothing  by  any 
writer  who  is  a  mere  professional  scientist  or 
a  mere  professional  hunter  can  take  their  place, 
or  do  more  than  supplement  them — for  scien- 
tist and  hunter  alike  would  do  well  to  remem- 
ber that  before  a  book  can  take  the  highest 
rank  in  any  particular  line  it  must  also  rank 
high  in  literature  proper.  Of  course,  for  us 
Americans,  Burroughs  has  a  peculiar  charm 
that  he  cannot  have  for  others,  no  matter  how 
much  they,  too,  may  like  him ;  for  what  he 
writes  of  is  our  own,  and  he  calls  to  our  minds 
memories  and  associations  that  are  very  dear. 
His  books  make  us  homesick  when  we  read 
them  in  foreign  lands  ;  for  they  spring  from 
our  soil  as  truly  as  Snowbound  or  The  Biglow 
Papers? 

1 1  am  under  many  obligations  to  the  writings  of  Mr.  Burroughs 
(though  there  are  one  or  two  of  his  theories  from  which  I  should 
dissent);  and  there  is  a  piece  of  indebtedness  in  this  very  volume 
of  which  I  have  only  just  become  aware.  In  my  chapter  on  the 
prong-buck  there  is  a  paragraph  which  will  at  once  suggest  to  any 
lover  of  Burroughs  some  sentences  in  his  essay  on  "  Birds  and 
Poets."  I  did  not  notice  the  resemblance  until  happening  to  reread 
the  essay  after  my  own  chapter  was  written,  and  at  the  time  I  had 
no  idea  that  I  was  borrowing  from  anybody,  the  more  so  as  I  was 
thinking  purely  of  western  wilderness  life  and  western  wilderness 
game,  with  whichl  knew  Mr.  Burroughs  had  never  been  familiar. 
I  have  concluded  to  leave  the  paragraph  in  with  this  acknowledg- 
ment. 


HUNTING  LORE.  261 

As  a  woodland  writer,  Thoreau  comes 
second  only  to  Burroughs. 

For  natural  history  in  the  narrower  sense 
there  are  still  no  better  books  than  Audubon 
and  Bachman's  Mammals  and  Audubon's 
Birds.  There  are  also  good  works  by  men 
like  Coues  and  Bendire  ;  and  if  Hart  Mer- 
riam,  of  the  Smithsonian,  will  only  do  for  the 
mammals  of  the  United  States  what  he  has 
already  done  for  those  of  the  Adirondacks, 
we  shall  have  the  best  book  of  its  kind  in  ex- 
istence. Nor,  among  less  technical  writings, 
should  one  overlook  such  essays  as  those  of 
Maurice  Thompson  and  Olive  Thorne  Miller. 

There  have  been  many  American  hunting- 
books  ;  but  too  often  they  have  been  very 
worthless,  even  when  the  writers  possessed 
the  necessary  first  hand  knowledge,  and  the 
rare  capacity  of  seeing  the  truth.  Few  of 
the  old-time  hunters  ever  tried  to  write  of  what 
they  had  seen  and  done  ;  and  of  those  who 
made  the  effort  fewer  still  succeeded.  In- 
nate refinement  and  the  literary  faculty — that 
is,  the  faculty  of  writing  a  thoroughly  interest- 
ing and  readable  book,  full  of  valuable  infor- 
mation— may  exist  in  uneducated  people  ; 
but  if  they  do  not,  no  amount  of  experience  in 
the  field  can  supply  their  lack.  However,  we 
have  had  some  good  works  on  the  chase  and 
habits  of  big  game,  such  as  Caton's  Deer  and 
Antelope  of  America,  Van  Dyke's  Still-Hunter, 
Elliott's  Carolina  Sports,  and  Dodge's  Hunt- 
ing Grounds  of  the  Great  West,  besides  the 
Century  Company's  Sport  with  Rod  and  Gun. 


262          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

Then  there  is  Catlin's  book,  and  the  journals 
of  the  explorers  from  Lewis  and  Clarke  down  ; 
and  occasional  volumes  on  outdoor  life,  such 
as  Theodore  Winthrop's  Canoe  and  Saddle,  and 
Clarence  King's  Mountaineering  in  the  Sierra 
Nevada, 

Two  or  three  of  the  great  writers  of  Ameri- 
can literature,  notably  Parkman  in  his  Oregon 
Trail  and,  with  less  interest,  Irving  in  his 
Trip  on  the  Prairies  have  written  with  power 
and  charm  of  life  in  the  American  wilderness ; 
but  no  one  has  arisen  to  do  for  the  far  west- 
ern plainsman  and  Rocky  Mountain  trappers 
quite  what  Hermann  Melville  did  for  the  South 
Sea  whaling  folk  in  Otnoo  and  Moby  Dick. 
The  best  description  of  these  old-time  dwell- 
ers among  the  mountains  and  on  the  plains 
is  to  be  found  in  a  couple  of  good  volumes  by 
the  Englishman  Ruxton.  However,  the  back- 
woodsmen proper,  both  in  their  forest  homes 
and  when  they  first  began  to  venture  out  on 
the  prairie,  have  been  portrayed  by  a  master 
hand.  In  a  succession  of  wonderfully  drawn 
characters,  ranging  from  "  Aaron  Thousand- 
acres  "  to  "  Ishmael  Bush,"  Fenimore  Cooper 
has  preserved  for  always  the  likenesses  of  these 
stark  pioneer  settlers  and  backwoods  hunters ; 
uncouth,  narrow,  hard,  suspicious,  but  with  all 
the  virile  virtues  of  a  young  and  masterful 
race,  a  race  of  mighty  breeders,  mighty 
fighters,  mighty  commonwealth  builders.  As 
for  Leatherstocking,  he  is  one  of  the  undying 
men  of  story  ;  grand,  simple,  kindly,  pure- 


HUNTING  LORE.  263 

minded,  staunchly  loyal,  the  type  of  the  steel- 
thewed  and  iron-willed  hunter-warrior. 

Turning  from  the  men  of  fiction  to  the  men 
of  real  life,  it  is  worth  noting  how  many  of 
the  leaders  among  our  statesmen  and  soldiers 
have  sought  strength  and  pleasure  in  the 
chase,  or  in  kindred  vigorous  pastimes.  Of 
course  field  sports,  or  at  least  the  wilder  kinds, 
which  entail  the  exercise  of  daring,  and  the 
endurance  of  toil  and  hardship,  and  which 
lead  men  afar  into  the  forests  and  mountains, 
stand  above  athletic  exercises ;  exactly  as 
among  the  latter,  rugged  outdoor  games,  like 
football  and  lacrosse,  are  much  superior  to 
mere  gymnastics  and  calisthenics. 

With  a  few  exceptions  the  men  among  us 
who  have  stood  foremost  in  political  leader- 
ship, like  their  fellows  who  have  led  our 
armies,  have  been  of  stalwart  frame  and 
sound  bodily  health.  When  they  sprang  from 
the  frontier  folk,  as  did  Lincoln  and  Andrew 
Jackson,  they  usually  hunted  much  in  their 
youth,  if  only  as  an  incident  in  the  prolonged 
warfare  waged  by  themselves  and!their  kinsmen 
against  the  wild  forces  of  nature.  Old  Israel 
Putnam's  famous  wolf-killing  feat  comes 
strictly  under  this  head.  Doubtless  he  greatly 
enjoyed  the  excitement  of  the  adventure ;  but 
he  went  into  it  as  a  matter  of  business,  not  of 
sport.  The  wolf,  the  last  of  its  kind  in  his 
neighborhood,  had  taken  heavy  toll  of  the 
flocks  of  himself  and  his  friends ;  when  they 
found  the  deep  cave  in  which  it  had  made  its 
den  it  readily  beat  off  the  dogs  sent  m  to  as- 
3—9  B 


264        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

sail  it ;  and  so  Putnam  crept  in  himself,  with 
his  torch  and  his  flint-lock  musket,  and  shot 
the  beast  where  it  lay. 

When  such  men  lived  in  long  settled  and 
thickly  peopled  regions,  they  needs  had  to 
accommodate  themselves  to  the  conditions 
and  put  up  with  humbler  forms  of  sport. 
Webster,  like  his  great  rival  for  Whig  leader- 
ship, Henry  Clay,  cared  much  for  horses,  dogs, 
and  guns  ;  but  though  an  outdoor  man  he 
had  no  chance  to  develop  a  love  for  big-game 
hunting.  He  was,  however,  very  fond  of  the 
rod  and  shotgun.  Mr.  Cabot  Lodge  recently 
handed  me  a  letter  written  to  his  grandfather 
by  Webster,  and  describing  a  day's  trout  fish- 
ing. It  may  be  worth  giving  for  the  sake  of 
the  writer,  and  because  of  the  fine  heartiness 
and  zest  in  enjoyment  which  it  shows : 

SANDWICH,  June  4, 
Saturday  mor'g 
6  o'clock 
DEAR  Sir: 

I  send  you  eight  or  nine  trout,  which  I  took  yester- 
day, in  that  chief  of  all  brooks,  Mashpee.  I  made  a 
long  day  of  it,  and  with  good  success,  for  me.  John 
was  with  me,  full  of  good  advice,  but  did  not  fish — nor 
carry  a  rod. 

I  took  26  trouts,  all  weighing        17  Ib.  12  oz. 
The  largest    (you  have  him) 

weighed  at  Crokers.  .         2  "    4  " 

The  5  largest    .        .        .         .         3  "    5  " 
The  eight  largest    .        .         .         1 1  "    8  " 
I  got  these  by  following  your  advice  ;  that  is,  by 
carefttl  &*  thorough  fishing  of  the  difficult  places,  which 
others  do  not  fish.     The  brook  is  fished,  nearly  every 
day.     I  entered  it,  not  so  high  up  as  we  sometimes  do, 
between  7  &  8  o'clock,  &  at  1 2  was  hardly  more  than  half 
way  down  to  the  meeting  house  path.     You  see  I  did 


HUNTING  LORE. 


265 


not  hurry.  The  day  did  not  hold  out  to  fish  the  whole 
brook  properly.  The  largest  trout  I  took  at  3  p.  M. 
(you  see  I  am  precise)  below  the  meeting  house,  under 
a  bush  on  the  right  bank,  two  or  three  rods  below  the 
large  beeches.  It  is  singular,  that  in  the  whole  day,  I 
did  not  take  two  trouts  out  of  the  same  hole.  I  found 
both  ends,  or  parts  of  the  Brook  about  equally  produc- 
tive. Small  fish  not  plenty,  in  either.  So  many  hooks 
get  everything  which  is  not  hid  away  in  the  manner 
large  trouts  take  care  of  themselves.  I  hooked  one, 
which  I  suppose  to  be  larger  than  any  which  I  took, 
as  he  broke  my  line,  by  fair  pulling,  after  I  had  pulled 
him  out  of  his  den,  &  was  playing  him  in  fair  open 
water. 

Of  what  I  send  you,  I  pray  you  keep  what  you  wish 
yourself,  send  three  to  Mr.  Ticknor,  &  three  to  Dr. 
Warren  ;  or  two  of  the  larger  ones,  to  each  will  perhaps 
be  enough — &  if  there  be  any  left,  there  is  Mr.  Callen- 
der  &  Mr.  Blake,  &  Mr.  Davis,  either  of  them  not 
"  averse  to  fish."  Pray  let  Mr.  Davis  see  them — espe- 
cially the  large  one. — As  he  promised  to  come,  &  fell 
back,  I  desire  to  excite  his  regrets.  I  hope  you  will 
have  the  large  one  on  your  own  table. 

The  day  was  fine — not  another  hook  in  the  Brook. 
John  steady  as  a  judge — and  everything  else  exactly 
right.  I  never,  on  the  whole,  had  so  agreeable  a  day's 
fishing  tho'  the  result,  in  pounds  or  numbers,  is  not 
great ; — nor  ever  expect  such  another. 

Please  preserve  this  letter ;  but  rehearse  not  these 
particulars  to  the  uninitiated. 

I  think  the  Limerick  not  the  best  hook.  Whether  it 
pricks  too  soon,  or  for  what  other  reason,  I  found  or 
thought  I  found  the  fish  more  likely  to  let  go  his  hold, 
from  this,  than  from  the  old-fashioned  hook. 

YRS. 
H.  CABOT,  Esq.  D.  WEBSTER. 

The  greatest  of  Americans,  Washington, 
was  very  fond  of  hunting,  both  with  rifle  or 
fowling-piece,  and  especially  with  horse,  horn 
and  hound.  Essentially  the  representative  of 
all  that  is  best  in  our  national  life  standing 
high  as  a  general,  high  as  a  statesman,  and 


266         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

highest  of  all  as  a  man,  he  could  never  have 
been  what  he  was  had  he  not  taken  delight  in 
feats  of  hardihood,  of  daring,  and  of  bodily 
prowess.  He  was  strongly  drawn  to  those 
field  sports  which  demand  in  their  follower 
the  exercise  of  the  manly  virtues — courage, 
endurance,  physical  address.  As  a  young  man, 
clad  in  the  distinctive  garb  of  the  backwoods- 
man, the  fringed  and  tasselled  hunting-shirt, 
he  led  the  life  of  a  frontier  surveyor  ;  and  like 
his  fellow  adventurers  in  wilderness  explora- 
tion and  Indian  campaigning,  he  was  often 
forced  to  trust  to  the  long  rifle  for  keeping  his 
party  in  food.  When  at  his  home,  at  Mount 
Vernon,  he  hunted  from  simple  delight  in  the 
sport. 

His  manuscript  diaries,  preserved  in  the 
State  Department  at  Washington,  are  full  of 
entries  concerning  his  feats  in  the  chase ; 
almost  all  of  them  naturally  falling  in  the 
years  between  the  ending  of  the  French  war 
and  the  opening  of  the  Revolutionary  struggle 
against  the  British,  or  else  in  the  period  sep- 
arating his  service  as  Commander-in-chief  of 
the  Continental  armies  from  his  term  of  office 
as  President  of  the  Republic.  These  entries 
are  scattered  through  others  dealing  with  his 
daily  duties  in  overseeing  his  farm  and  mill, 
his  attendance  at  the  Virginia  House  of 
Burgesses,  his  journeys,  the  drill  of  the  local 
militia,  and  all  the  various  interests  of  his 
many-sided  life.  Fond  though  he  was  of 
hunting,  he  was  wholly  incapable  of  the  career 
of  inanity  led  by  those  who  make  sport,  not  a 


HUNTING  LORE.  267 

manly  pastime,  but  the  one  serious  business 
of  their  lives. 

The  entries  in  the  diaries  are  short,  and  are 
couched  in  the  homely  vigorous  English,  so 
familiar  to  the  readers  of  Washington's  journals 
and  private  letters.  Sometimes  they  are  brief 
jottings  in  reference  to  shooting  trips ;  such 
as :  "  Rid  out  with  my  gun  " ;  "  went  pheasant 
hunting  "  ;  "  went  ducking,"  and  "  went  a 
gunning  up  the  Creek."  But  far  more  often 
they  are  :  "  Rid  out  with  my  hounds,"  "  went 
a  fox  hunting,"  or  "  went  a  hunting."  In 
their  perfect  simplicity  and  good  faith  they 
are  strongly  characteristic  of  the  man.  He 
enters  his  blank  days  and  failures  as  con- 
scientiously as  his  red-letter  days  of  success  ; 
recording  with  equal  care  on  one  day,  "  Fox 
hunting  with  Captain  Posey — catch  a  Fox," 
and  another,  "  Went  a  hunting  with  Lord 
Fairfax  .  .  .  catched  nothing." 

Occasionally  he  began  as  early  as  August 
and  continued  until  April  ;  and  while  he 
sometimes  made  but  eight  or  ten  hunts  in  a 
season,  at  others  he  made  as  many  in  a  month. 
Often  he  hunted  from  Mt.  Vernon,  going  out 
once  or  twice  a  week,  either  alone  or  with 
a  party  of  his  friends  and  neighbors  ;  and 
again  he  would  meet  with  these  same  neigh- 
bors at  one  of  their  houses,  and  devote  several 
days  solely  to  the  chase.  The  country  was 
still  very  wild,  and  now  and  then  game  was 
encountered  with  which  the  fox-hounds  proved 
unable  to  cope  ;  as  witness  entries  like  : 
"  found  both  a  Bear  and  a  Fox,  but  got 


268         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

neither  " ;  "  went  a  hunting  .  .  .  started  a 
Deer  &  then  a  Fox  but  got  neither  "  ;  and 
"  Went  a  hunting  and  after  trailing  a  fox  a 
good  while  the  Dogs  Raized  a  Deer  &  ran 
out  of  the  Neck  with  it  &  did  not  some  of 
them  at  least  come  home  till  the  next  day." 
If  it  was  a  small  animal,  however,  it  was  soon 
accounted  for.  "  Went  a  Hunting  .  .  . 
catched  a  Rakoon  but  never  found  a  Fox." 

The  woods  were  so  dense  and  continuous 
that  it  was  often  impossible  for  the  riders  to 
keep  close  to  the  hounds  throughout  the  run  ; 
though  in  one  or  two  of  the  best  covers,  as  the 
journal  records,  Washington  "  directed  paths 
to  be  cut  for  Fox  Hunting."  This  thickness 
of  the  timber  made  it  difficult  to  keep  the 
hounds  always  under  control  ;  and  there  are 
frequent  allusions  to  their  going  off  on  their 
own  account,  as  "  Joined  some  dogs  that  were 
self  hunting."  Sometimes  the  hounds  got  so 
far  away  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  whether 
they  had  killed  or  not,  the  journal  remarking 
"  catched  nothing  that  we  know  of,"  or 
"  found  a  fox  at  the  head  of  the  blind  Pocoson 
which  we  suppose  was  killed  in  an  hour  but 
could  not  find  it." 

Another  result  of  this  density  and  contin- 
uity of  cover  was  the  frequent  recurrence  of 
days  of  ill  success.  There  are  many  such 
entries  as :  "  Went  Fox  hunting,  but  started 
nothing  "  ;  "  Went  a  hunting,  but  catched 
nothing";  "  found  nothing ";  "found  a  Fox 
and  lost  it."  Often  failure  followed  long  and 
hard  runs  :  "  Started  a  Fox,  run  him  four 


HUNTING  LORE.  269 

hours,  took  the  Hounds  off  at  night " ; 
"  found  a  Fox  and  run  it  6  hours  and  then 
lost "  ;  "  Went  a  hunting  above  Darrells  .  .  . 
found  a  fox  by  two  Dogs  but  lost  it  upon  join- 
ing the  Pack."  In  the  season  of  1772-73 
Washington  hunted  eighteen  days  and  killed 
nine  foxes ;  and  though  there  were  seasons 
when  he  was  out  much  more  often,  this  pro- 
portion of  kills  to  runs  was  if  anything  above 
the  average.  At  the  beginning  of  1768  he 
met  with  a  series  of  blank  days  which  might 
well  have  daunted  a  less  patient  and  persever- 
ing hunter.  In  January  and  the  early  part  of 
February  he  was  out  nine  times  without  get- 
ting a  thing ;  but  his  diary  does  not  contain 
a  word  of  disappointment  or  surprise,  each 
successive  piece  of  ill-luck  being  entered  with- 
out comment,  even  when  one  day  he  met 
some  more  fortunate  friends  "  who  had  just 
catched  2  foxes. "  At  last,  on  February  1 2th, 
he  himself  "  catched  two  foxes  "  ;  the  six  or 
eight  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood  who 
made  up  the  field  all  went  home  with  him 
to  Mt.  Vernon,  to  dine  and  pass  the  night,  and 
in  the  hunt  of  the  following  day  they  repeated 
the  feat  of  a  double  score.  In  the  next  seven 
days'  hunting  he  killed  four  times. 

The  runs  of  course  varied  greatly  in  length ; 
on  one  day  he  "  found  a  bitch  fox  at  Piney 
Branch  and  killed  it  in  an  hour  "  ;  on  another 
he  "  killed  a  Dog  fox  after  having  him  on 
foot  three  hours  &  hard  running  an  hour  and  a 
qr."  ;  and  on  yet  another  he  "  catched  a  fox  with 
a  bobd  Tail  &  cut  ears  after  7  hours  chase  in 


270        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

which  most  of  the  Dogs  were  worsted." 
Sometimes  he  caught  his  fox  in  thirty-five 
minutes,  and  again  he  might  run  it  nearly  the 
whole  day  in  vain  ;  the  average  run  seems  to 
have  been  from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  three 
hours.  Sometimes  the  entry  records  merely 
the  barren  fact  of  the  run  ;  at  others  a  few 
particulars  are  given,  with  homespun,  telling 
directness,  as :  "  Went  a  hunting  with  Jacky 
Custis  and  catched  a  Bitch  Fox  after  three 
hours  chase — founded  it  on  ye.  ck.  by  I. 
Soals  "  ;  or  went  a  Fox  hunting  with  Lund 
Washington — took  the  drag  of  a  fox  by  Isaac 
Gates  &  carrd.  it  tolerably  well  to  the  old 
Glebe  then  touched  now  and  then  upon  a  cold 
scent  till  we  came  into  Col.  Fairfaxes  Neck 
where  we  found  about  half  after  three  upon 
the  Hills  just  above  Accotinck  Creek — after 
running  till  quite  Dark  took  off  the  Dogs  and 
came  home." 

The  foxes  were  doubtless  mostly  of  the 
gray  kind,  and  besides  going  to  holes  they 
treed  readily.  In  January,  1770,  he  was  out 
seven  days,  killing  four  foxes ;  and  two  of  the 
entries  in  the  journal  relate  to  foxes  which 
treed;  one,  on  the  loth,  being,  "I  went  a 
hunting  in  the  Neck  and  visited  the  plantn. 
there  found  and  killed  a  bitch  fox  after  tree- 
ing it  3  t.  chasg.  it  abt.  3  hrs.,"  and  the  other 
on  the  23d :  "  Went  a  hunting  after  breakfast 
&  found  a  Fox  at  muddy  hole  &  killed  her 
(it  being  a  bitch)  after  a  chase  of  better  than 
two  hours  and  after  treeing  her  twice  the  last 
of  which  times  she  fell  dead  out  of  the  Tree 


HUNTING  LORE.  271 

after  being  therein  sevl.  minutes  apparently." 
In  April,  1769,  he  hunted  four  days,  and  on 
every  occasion  the  fox  treed.  April  7th, "  Dog 
fox  killed,  ran  an  hour  &  treed  twice."  April 
nth,  "Went  a  fox  hunting  and  took  a  fox 
alive  after  running  him  to  a  Tree — brot  him 
home."  April  1 2 th,  "  Chased  the  above  fox 
an  hour  &  45  minutes  when  he  treed  again 
after  which  we  lost  him."  April  i3th, 
"  Killed  a  dog  fox  after  treeing  him  in  35 
minutes." 

Washington  continued  his  fox-hunting  until, 
in  the  spring  of  1775,  the  guns  of  the  min- 
utemen  in  Massachusetts  called  him  to 
the  command  of  the  Revolutionary  soldiery. 
When  the  eight  weary  years  of  campaigning 
were  over,  he  said  good-by  to  the  war-worn 
veterans  whom  he  had  led  through  defeat  and 
disaster  to  ultimate  triumph,  and  became 
once  more  a  Virginia  country  gentleman. 
Then  he  took  up  his  fox-hunting  with  as 
much  zest  as  ever.  The  entries  in  his  journal 
are  now  rather  longer,  and  go  more  into  de- 
tail than  formerly.  Thus,  on  December  i2th, 
1785,  he  writes  that  after  an  early  breakfast 
he  went  on  a  hunt  and  found  a  fox  at  half 
after  ten,  "  being  first  plagued  with  the  dogs 
running  hogs,"  followed  on  his  drag  for  some 
time,  then  ran  him  hard  for  an  hour,  when 
there  came  a  fault ;  but  when  four  dogs 
which  had  been  thrown  out  rejoined  the  pack 
they  put  the  fox  up  afresh,  and  after  fifty 
minutes'  run  killed  him  in  an  open  field, 
M  every  Rider  &  every  Dog  being  present  at 


272         THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

the  Death."  With  his  usual  alternations 
between  days  like  this,  and  days  of  ill-luck, 
he  hunted  steadily  every  season  until  his  term 
of  private  life  again  drew  to  a  close  and  he 
was  called  to  the  headship  of  the  nation  he 
had  so  largely  helped  to  found. 

In  a  certain  kind  of  fox-hunting  lore  there 
is  much  reference  to  a  Warwickshire  squire 
who,  when  the  Parliamentary  and  Royalist 
armies  were  forming  for  the  battle  at  Edge- 
hill,  was  discovered  between  the  hostile  lines, 
unmovedly  drawing  the  covers  for  a  fox. 
Now,  this  placid  sportsman  should  by  rights 
have  been  slain  offhand  by  the  first  trooper 
who  reached  him,  whether  Cavalier  or  Round- 
head. He  had  mistaken  means  for  ends, 
he  had  confounded  the  healthful  play  which 
should  fit  a  man  for  needful  work  with  the 
work  itself ;  and  mistakes  of  this  kind  are 
sometimes  criminal.  Hardy  sports  of  the 
field  offer  the  best  possible  training  for  war  ; 
but  they  become  contemptible  when  indulged 
in  while  the  nation  is  at  death-grips  with  her 
enemies. 

It  was  not  in  Washington's  strong  nature 
to  make  such  an  error.  Nor  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  he  likely  to  undervalue  either  the 
pleasure,  or  the  real  worth  of  outdoor  sports. 
The  qualities  of  heart,  mind,  and  body,  which 
-made  him  delight  in  the  hunting-field,  and 
which  he  there  exercised  and  developed,  stood 
him  in  good  stead  in  many  a  long  campaign 
and  on  many  a  stricken  field  ;  they  helped  to 
build  that  stern  capacity  for  leadership  in  war 


HUNTING  LORE.  273 

which  he  showed  alike  through  the  bitter  wo« 
of  the  winter  at  Valley  Forge,  on  the  night 
when  he  ferried  his  men  across  the  half-frozen 
Delaware  to  the  overthrow  of  the  German 
mercenaries  at  Trenton,  and  in  the  brilliant 
feat  of  arms  wheieof  the  outcome  was  the  de- 
cisive victory  of  Yorktown. 


APPENDIX. 

IN  this  volume  I  have  avoided  repeating  what 
was  contained  in  either  of  my  former 
books,  the  Hunting  Trips  of  a  Ranchman  and 
Ranch  Life  and  the  Hunting  Trail.  For  many 
details  of  life  and  work  in  the  cattle  country  I 
must  refer  the  reader  to  these  two  volumes ; 
and  also  for  more  full  accounts  of  the  habits 
and  methods  of  hunting  such  game  as  deer 
and  antelope.  As  far  as  I  know,  the  descrip- 
tion in  my  Rinch  Life  of  the  habits  and  the 
chase  of  the  mountain  sheep  is  the  only 
moderately  complete  account  thereof  that  has 
ever  been  published.  The  five  game-heads 
figured  in  this  volume  are  copied  exactly  from 
the  originals,  now  in  my  home ;  the  animals 
were,  of  course,  shot  by  myself. 

There  have  been  many  changes,  both  in  my 
old  hunting-grounds  and  my  old  hunting- 
friends,  since  I  first  followed  the  chase  in  the 
far  western  country.  Where  the  buffalo  and 
the  Indian  ranged,  along  the  Little  Missouri, 
the  branded  herds  of  the  ranchmen  now  graze ; 
the  scene  of  my  elk-hunt  at  Two  Ocean  Pass 
is  now  part  of  the  National  Forest  Reserve ; 
settlers  and  miners  have  invaded  the  ground 
where  I  killed  bear  and  moose  ;  and  steamers 
ply  on  the  lonely  waters  of  Kootenai  Lake. 

275 


276        THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

Of  my  hunting  companions  some  are  alive; 
others — among  them  my  staunch  and  valued 
friend,  Will  Dow,  and  crabbed,  surly  old 
Hank  Griffen — are  dead ;  while  yet  others 
have  drifted  away,  and  I  know  not  what  has 
become  of  them. 

I  have  made  no  effort  to  indicate  the  best 
kind  of  camp  kit  for  hunting,  for  the  excellent 
reason  that  it  depends  so  much  upon  the  kind 
of  trip  taken,  and  upon  the  circumstances  of 
the  person  taking  it.  The  hunting  trip  may 
be  made  with  a  pack-train,  or  with  a  wagon, 
or  with  a  canoe,  or  on  foot ;  and  the  hunter 
may  have  half  a  dozen  attendants,  or  he  may 
go  absolutely  alone.  I  have  myself  made  trips 
under  all  of  these  circumstances.  At  times  I 
have  gone  with  two  or  three  men,  several  tents 
and  an  elaborate  apparatus  for  cooking,  caser 
of  canned  goods,  and  the  like.  On  the  othes 
hand,  I  have  made  trips  on  horseback,  with 
nothing  whatsoever  beyond  what  I  had  on, 
save  my  oil-skin  slicker,  a  metal  cup,  and 
some  hardtack,  tea,  and  salt  in  the  saddle 
pockets ;  and  I  have  gone  for  a  week  or  two's 
journey  on  foot,  carrying  on  my  shoulders  my 
blanket,  a  frying-pan,  some  salt,  a  little  flour, 
a  small  chunk  of  bacon,  and  a  hatchet.  So  it 
is  with  dress.  The  clothes  should  be  stout,  of 
a  neutral  tint ;  the  hat  should  be  soft,  without 
too  large  a  brim ;  the  shoes  heavy,  and  the 
soles  studded  with  small  nails,  save  when 
moccasins  orerubber-soled  shoes  are  worn; 
but  within  these  limits  there  is  room  for  plenty 
of  variation.  Avoid,  however,  the  so-called 


f  APPENDIX.  277 

deer-stalker's  cap,  which  is  an  abomination  ;  its 
peaked  brim  giving  no  protection  whatsoever 
to  the  eyes  when  facing  the  sun  quartering,  a 
position  in  which  many  shots  must  be  taken. 
In  very  cold  regions,  fur  coats,  caps,  and  mit- 
tens, and  all-wool  underclothing  are  necessary. 
I  dislike  rubber  boots  when  they  can  possibly 
be  avoided.  In  hunting  in  snow  in  the  winter 
I  use  the  so-called  German  socks  and  felt  over- 
shoes where  possible.  One  winter  I  had  an 
ermine  cap  made.  It  was  very  good  for  peep- 
ing over  the  snowy  ridge  crests  when  game 
was  on  the  other  side ;  but,  except  when  the 
entire  landscape  was  snow-covereds  it  was  an 
unmitigated  nuisance.  In  winter,  webbed 
snow-shoes  are  used  in  the  thick  woods,  and 
skees  in  the  open  country. 

There  is  an  endless  variety  of  opinion  about 
rifles,  and  all  that  can  be  said  with  certainty  is 
that  any  good  modern  rifle  will  do.  It  is  the 
man  behind  the  rifle  that  counts,  after  the 
weapon  has  reached  a  certain  stage  of  per- 
fection. One  of  my  friends  invariably  uses 
an  old  Government  Springfield,  a  45-calibre, 
with  an  ounce  bullet.  Another  cares  for 
nothing  but  the  40-90  Sharps',  a  weapon 
for  which  I  myself  have  much  partiality. 
Another  uses  always  the  old  45-calibre  Sharps', 
and  yet  another  the  45-calibre  Reming- 
ton. Two  of  die  best  bear  and  elk  hunters  I 
know  prefer  the  32  and  38-calibre  Marlin's, 
with  long  cartridges,  weapons  with  which  I 
myself  would  not  undertake  to  produce  any 
good  results.  Yet  others  prefer  pieces  of  very 


278          THE  WILDERNESS  HUNTER. 

large  calibre.  The  amount  of  it  is  that  each 
one  of  these  guns  possesses  some  excellence 
which  the  others  lack,  but  which  is  in  most 
cases  atoned  for  by  some  corresponding  defect. 
Simplicity  of  mechanism  is  very  important,  but 
so  is  rapidity  of  fire ;  and  it  is  hard  to  get 
both  of  them  developed  to  the  highest  degree 
in  the  same  piece.  In  the  same  way,  flatness 
of  trajectory,  penetration,  range,  shock,  and 
accuracy  are  all  qualities  which  must  be  at- 
tained ;  but  to  get  one  in  perfection  usually 
means  the  sacrifice  of  some  of  the  rest.  For 
instance,  other  things  being  equal,  the  smallest 
calibre  has  the  greatest  penetration,  but  gives 
the  least  shock ;  while  a  very  flat  trajectory,  if 
acquired  by  heavy  charges  of  powder,  means 
the  sacrifice  of  accuracy.  Similarly,  solid  and 
hollow  pointed  bullets  have,  respectively,  their 
merits  and  demerits.  There  is  no  use  of  dog- 
matizing about  weapons.  Some  which  prove 
excellent  for  particular  countries  and  kinds  of 
hunting  are  useless  in  others. 

There  seems  to  be  no  doubt,  judging  from 
the  testimony  of  sportsmen  in  South  Africa 
and  in  India,  that  very  heavy  calibre  double- 
barrelled  rifles  are  best  for  use  in  the  dense 
jungles  and  against  the  thick-hided  game  of 
those  regions  ;  but  they  are  of  very  little  value 
with  us.  In  1882  one  of  the  buffalo  hunters 
on  the  Little  Missouri  obtained  from  some 
Englishman  a  double-barrelled  ten-bore  rifle 
of  the  kind  used  against  rhinoceros,  buffalo, 
and  elephant  in  the  Old  World  ;  but  it  proved 
very  inferior  to  the  40-  and  45 -calibre  Sharps' 


APPENDIX. 


279 


buffalo  guns  when  used  under  the  conditions 
of  American  buffalo  hunting,  the  tremendous 
shock  given  by  the  bullet  not  compensating 
for  the  gun's  great  relative  deficiency  in  range 
and  accuracy,  while  even  the  penetration  was 
inferior  at  ordinary  distances.  It  is  largely 
also  a  matter  of  individual  taste.  At  one  time 
I  possessed  a  very  expensive  double-barrelled 
500  Express,  by  one  of  the  crack  English 
makers ;  but  I  never  liked  the  gun,  and  could 
not  do  as  well  with  it  as  with  my  repeater, 
which  cost  barely  a  sixth  as  much.  So  one 
day  I  handed  it  to  a  Scotch  friend,  who  was 
manifestly  ill  at  ease  with  a  Winchester  exactly 
like  my  own.  He  took  to  the  double-barrel 
as  naturally  as  I  did  to  the  repeater,  and  did 
excellent  work  with  it.  Personally,  I  have  al- 
ways preferred  the  Winchester.  I  now  use  a 
45-90,  with  my  old  buffalo  gun,  a  40-90 
Sharps'  as  spare  rifle.  Both,  of  course,  have 
specially  tested  barrels,  and  are  stocked  and 
sighted  to  suit  myself. 


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